To Be Free
by MegiieSue
Summary: The west is on it's deathbed, dying due to the oncoming eastern civilization of the savage lands. Alice Thatcher, the proper daughter of a wealthy business tycoon finds herself trapped in the likes of it all with little idea of where to look next.
1. The Good News

"So how about that Clark fellow, Alice?"

"What do you mean?" She tossed her ballet flats into the old fashioned bag, kneeling over on the ground to button the side.

"Don't act as if you don't see the way he looks at you from across the room. I think he likes you."

"Clark? Oh please, he's nothing but a fellow performer. Acquaintance at the very most." She swung the bag over her shoulder, blowing a strand of her curly hazel hair away from her eyes.

The petite brunet struggled to close her bag, finally standing to rush over to Alice. She had always been very nosey(although she had kind intentions), impatient, and above all adorable. Her button nose and dark brown eyes were probably her key features. Although her gracefulness was the reason for her talent in dance, as well as Alice's.

"You're not fooling anyone. There's no need to be ashamed, he's terribly cute. And I wouldn't be surprised if you were to receive any proposals of some sort soon enough."

"Whatever you say, Janet. Unlike you, I'm not one to count my chickens before they hatch." She rolled her eyes at the friend of hers, "Do you think Mr. Hall will ever allow us a holiday? We've been having longer practices and oddly enough my feet are aching."

"Do we ever?"

"But our last performance was last week, you'd think we'd get some form of a break."

"Well unfortunately Mr. Hall is one tight strung prude."

"Janet!" Alice found herself reluctantly laughing at the comment. How Janet seemed to make her laugh so easily, even with the most naughty of jokes.

She had to have been five inches shorter than her, and while short stature was often looked down upon by casters and teachers she was able to prove them wrong and overcome her weak spot with her amazing talent. It was probably one of the only things her and Alice had in common, but it was enough for them to become best friends. One of the only true ones she would ever have. The two continued their way out of the studio, chatting it up as the typical New York girls would.

Alice was taken by surprise as the two exited the large doors. Against the wall leaned the infamous Clark Richards. This was the man who had stared in so many acting performances with her that there were too many to count. After so many shared performances he seemed to take a liking to her, and lately had been going out of his way to see her. Alice was not particularly fond of him, but dealt with him all the same as if she was. He smoothly stood back up approaching Alice with his every growing aurora of charm flowing throughout the atmosphere. She plastered a sweet smile to him as she could feel and hear the obnoxious Janet's giggles and nudges.

He was handsome without a doubt always being dressed as if he were attending a fancy dinner party. Under his hat laid his wavy dirty blonde hair brushed back so nicely. He had a strong bone structure in his face, with a bright smile that almost stole her heart the first time she met him when he was her main love interest in a play. His emerald green eyes stared warmly down to her as he smiled, "Hello, Alice."

She turned her head to frown at the giggling Janet. She clamped a hand over her mouth to conceal her pleasured laughter. Alice turned her head back to him, matching his grin,

"How pleasant it is to see you, Clark. I _do_ apologize for my friend. What are you doing here?" She politely asked.

"I thought I might give you a ride back to your Father's house, it is too long of a walk for such a delicate flower as yourself." Janet silently squealed. It sounded as though it had came from a mouse, Clark merely tipped his hat to her in response to the humorous noise, "And your friend if she needs one."

"Oh me? I'm quite fine, I just live down the street! And I'd hate to be such a burden and get between you two. I best be going anyways, Goodbye, Alice!" With that she started down the street with her usual bop to her step. Alice laughed self-consciously at her friends babbling exit,

"She's a mouthful isn't she?" He commented.

"She's something… a ride home would be a very kind gesture indeed, Mr. Richards."

"Mother?" She quietly shut the large mansion door behind her. She stumbled on into the house admiring her beautiful entrance room, "Mother?" she called out.

"No shouting in the house, Alice." She turned her head to see her mother sitting in the parlor. Charlotte, her mother, sat knitting in her rocking chair not even lifting her gaze to greet her daughter. She spoke sternly, but it was just her way of showing affection through her authority.

The daughter stepped her way into the parlor where her mother was. She leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, "Good evening, Mother."

"How was your ballet practice?" She questioned,

"It was fine. Clark drove me home."

"I've always favored that boy. He seems like a fine suitor." Alice groaned quietly. Why was everyone bringing up her and him being together? Her bag dropped from her shoulder onto the wooden floor beside a chair,

"Pick it up. " She rolled her eyes at her mother as she picked the bag up once more, hanging it on a peg on the wall. She reached for a table drawer to pick up her own knitting, but was stopped, "Oh, Alice, your father would like to see you in the study."

"Did he say why?"

"No, only that it was important."

She could smell the familiar smoke before even entering the room as she stepped down the long hallway. It was the same scent that was always emitted by her father's favorite pipe. He smoked it so often that it had become one of the most prominent memories of her childhood. The doors to the study were open, and she could see her father sitting at his desk writing something intently. Most likely something business related. She would never know. He lifted his head from his work to see her enter the room,

"Oh, sweetheart I've been waiting for you. How are you?"

"Hello father. I am fine." She stepped farther into the room, "Mother said you needed something?" The man stood up from his desk, taking his lit pipe from the desk. He motioned her to the window where he now stood, taking his pipe from his lips as he leaned against his desk,

"Uhum, yes. I have some good news." She smiled as she joined him by the window, still a step or two behind him, "But first I'd like you to tell me about your day."

"Please father, what is it?" He smiled over to his daughter. The words she spoke reminded him so much of something she might have said in her childhood if she wanted something badly. She rolled her eyes at his reluctance to share the secret, " Mr. Hall seemed to work us harder today, making class more difficult than normal. I don't understand it, being that our last performance of the show was last week."

"It's all discipline."

"If you say so, Father. Clark gave me a ride home today in his new automobile. He made a comment that he thought I was wonderful in the show." Her gaze must have drifted before for she had to redirect her smiling gaze to Charles when she started to speak again, " The automobile was nice, but I still prefer to ride the horses and ponies we rode near the stables."

His eyes had also drifted to the window, his body slightly turned to the glass panes. The pipe in his hands puffed smoke as he blew into it,

"So you do know Mr. Richards."

"Very well. What about him?" His eyes shifted back to his daughter, then to the floor.

Charles was not a tall man, in fact he would be considered almost short for a man of the time. Yet the way he carried himself was with great authority, the leader and guardian of his family. His hair was dark and thick with waves that shone in the light from the window. He lifted his gaze back to look at his daughter, slightly weary of how she would take the news.

"That's who my news is about. He seems to have taken a liking to you. Yesterday he asked for your hand in marriage." Alice felt her stomach drop as a look of horror and agony fought it's way to appear on her face. Every thought that had previously floated throughout her mind, her ballet practice, the stables, and the promise of good news had disappeared. It took all of her might to repress it, only showing signs of pain in her eyes that began to pool with salty tears. She mouthed the word what before her father could continue, " A nice boy he is, and I gave him my condolences." Alice let out a small cry, Charles's head sharply looking up from the floor,

"Father I don't love him!" She protested, tears becoming more relevant in her eyes. He took the pipe from his mouth, laying a hand on his Alice's shoulder,

"Oh my daughter, my sweet Alice. Clark is a nice man…"

"Father!"

"I wouldn't have given him my daughter unless I had the utmost respect and trust in him. If I had any doubt that he would not be the best suited for you I would have sent him on his way." Warm tears fell from her eyes, " I do this because I love you."

Alice's lips pursed, her cheeks grew warm, tears now flowing from her sockets. She took two steps back away from her father letting his hand fall to his side. Marriage to someone she barley liked was something she had never considered to be her own fate. Her eyes were pained at the idea of it,

"If you love me so, father, allow me this one thing… Before you give me off to a man as if I were nothing but a slave-to-be, I've never even left home. Let me know the world before this, madness!" She turned to run out of the study doors.

A hollow existence seemed to spread throughout her full room. It was quite large, expected from such a large house. Walls were decorated with famous paintings, her favorite being one by the artist Degas. It showed many dolled up girls prancing around a spectator who seemed to nod in approval of their skill. It reminded her of her childhood, always living impress her parents with dance. Always living to gain approval.

A knock sounded throughout the thin walls as an obvious fist clambered against the wooden door. Eliza, she thought.

"Miss Alice?"

"Come in." The dark skinned woman entered the room without much thought, an instant look of annoyance and pity swept across her face as she sighed. Almost as if to ask, Really? Once she saw her bundled on her bed,

"Child, do you plan on sittin there like you've just seen the devil for the next hour?"

"I can wallow in my own self-pity if I feel need be, Eliza." The desolate girl's face appeared quite pathetic. Her normally shining gaze now left her eyes seeming to droop in their sockets. She had replaced her dancing ensemble for a more casual nightgown. It's silky fabrics falling limp to show her slender figure. She held a pillow in her arms as she leaned against her rather large headboard. Her hair was messily pinned up into bun as if it keep some sense of dignity in her state.

"It ain't healthy, I can tell you that much." She plopped the clothes she had been carrying on her way through the door into dark mahogany drawers attached to her dresser. Slamming them rather vigorously, "It's time for supper." With a groan, she threw her pillow to the flat bed as she complied in attending dinner.

The only force driving her down the squeaky stairwell was the sole hope of convincing her father of the false judgment in suitor. To convince him that she would be better off with her own choice was her goal. But ultimately, it came down to her need to please. If her father ever so wanted her to marry his choice of a man, then she would.

Entering the room, she instantly caught the attention of both her father and mother. Their expressions of shock differed, her mother's lips pursed as her jaw dropped while her father merely looked up from his meal with his eyes. He peered at her through his spectacles, but soon dropped them as to continue eating. Charlotte closed her mouth as she brought her brows together to form a frown,

"Alice Marie Thatcher, what on earth are you thinking carrying yourself in such a manner." She didn't respond, only taking a seat next to her father who sat at the end of the table. She gracefully lifted a fork full of salad leaves to her mouth as to not acknowledge her mother, "Do you hear me?"

"Charlotte." Adam, her wealthy father, spoke to silent his distressed wife, "Alice why don't you go prep yourself a bit and come down when you are ready?"

"What's the point father? My life is a wreck as it is."

"Now why is that?"

"I don't believe I have to respond for you to know your answer."

Silence followed the witty response. Such insolence was not expected from a girl of upper-class status during this time. Looks were exchanged between parents as Alice continued to stare at her plate. Adam opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted,

"Father, if I am to marry Clark. May I ask something of you beforehand?"

"Anything, my child."

"Allow me to take a trip, to see the world before I become nothing but a wife. Even if it's just a small part of it."

"An independent woman taking a trip with no man accompanying her?"

"You've raised me so, I should believe I would remain alright."

"I'd hardly think so with no man at your side."

"Father!" She protested. He lifted a finger to silence her,

"But, I might have a safer alternative." He paused to gain reassurance of her cooperation, "You have a cousin, who lives in a little town quite far away from here. There I believe you may experience uh… quite a different world than what you're used to from what I've heard."

"Where is it?"

"I believe it's, oh what was it… Blackwater? Yes Blackwater, Texas." Her mind raced. Texas? Of all places she could escape from, why would he send her half was across the continent, "He's had a series of unsuccessful general stores throughout the frontier, I believe he could use some help down there in his little pioneer town." The man had finished his meal. Leaning back in his chair, he lit his pipe, "He could teach you a few things, teach you skills you need to know to be a proper wife. Who knows, this request could be a blessing." BlackWater… the name continued to repeat itself. So unknown to her, what would she expect to find in this place that awaited her arrival?


	2. Arrival in Blackwater

The sound of the pumping train engines as the vehicle progressed across the western prairie lands filled the atmosphere with a constant beat. It was calming to say the least, the most calming of things since her departure from New York. The emotion that would most describe her state would be extreme anxiety and hopelessness, anxiety from her trapped future and the idea of being away from home for the first time without her parents company.

Her position laid unmoved for probably hours. Slumped against the window of the old train, staring out into the vast fields which were so rapidly being settled by the people of the east. Sapphire blue eyes that inspected the rolling mountains in the far west were that of hers. To slouch was something that was forbid by her mother, but at this point she honestly could care less. Here she was forcing her into something that would change her whole life. Respecting her wishes was the last thing she wished to do.

Alice's plan from the beginning was this. Ask father to be allowed one trip alone. One and only one. Of course when she asked to be allowed out to a city she had somewhere along the lines of Paris or Prague in mind. There she would find a way to escape from whoever her father might have sent as accompaniment and ultimately ran away from her chosen fate. This was not to be, for instead her scheme was ruined when her father decided to send her to the middle of no where on the frontier.

He must have had something in mind, though, for something was significant about this land. It was untamed, and quickly becoming civilized under the outstretched hand of the east. The culture of the west was dying, and although it was dangerous, maybe her father wished for her to be one of the last to witness the way of life. That was unlikely, however, for he even said the true reason was that there was family there. No matter how ashamed they are of him, he was someone to look after her and teach her the ways of a humbled working lady. Perhaps then she could learn to appreciate Clark. Fat chance.

How she dreaded the idea of marrying him. He wasn't a bad man as far as she knew, but being forced to be with him was enough to put a bad taste in her mouth. She was trapped in the middle of no where because of it. Where to turn next was a mystery to her. Just as she was about to lose her sanity to tears, a whistle sounded. This caused her to sit up straight in a shocked twitch. The engines began to die down and a station could be seen from a distance.

All different sorts of people sat on the train she now witnessed. Short, tall, fat, skinny, old, young, and even a couple pour to go along with the rich. It was true that not just one group had come to settle if not visit. They all began to reach for their suitcases, as did she. Within minutes they all had begun to exit the parked train.

Father had shown her pictures of her cousin before, and even before she left he had given her a description. Her directions were to head to the Blackwater train station and that he would be waiting for her, from there he would explain. Peter was his name. Peter Thatcher. Peter who owned the General Goods store in Blackwater, Texas. She had memorized it.

When arrived at the station, the amount of people there seemed expected. Not too many, but it wasn't a desolate town from the looks of it. Each person going about their daily lives. As the people filed off the train, they all went their separate ways. All but her, who stood holding her suitcase scanning the faces of each man there trying to find a match to the picture she had engraved into her mind,

"Alice?" She turned her head, bouncing her light caramel curls. The man who spoke had a face that closely resembled that of her picture, but slightly more matured. Which was expected, the photo was of him in his teens. Now he was nearing his late twenties. The thing that amused her the most was that their shade of hair matched to a tee, but his dark brown eyes contrasted with hers,

"That's my name. You must be Peter?"

"Peter Thatcher at your service." He grinned a wide smile full of gleaming white teeth as he shook her hand, "Wow so you're Alice, your father's told me a lot about you. It's a shame we've never met before." He released her, taking a moment to look at her,

"When you live such a busy life I guess it can be hard to find time to visit family."

"Sure can." He exhaled a deep breath, running his hands through his hair as he directed his eyes over to the city. He must had been nervous, for he seemed extra jittery. But then again that could have just been his personality, "Here, let me get your luggage for you. Follow me if you would." With one swoop he grabbed a hold of her bags as if their immense weight was the same as a feather. He was quite strong actually, his bicep muscles bulged from his shirt.

It wasn't long until the two had entered the town, for it wasn't far from the station. Surprisingly it wasn't too far from a simple looking town in the east. From first glance it seemed more civilized than she had expected. But then again, she expected to see one of the old western towns you hear in stories with wooden buildings complete with a large wooden saloon as the main attraction. There was a saloon, but from the looks of it, it wasn't the main focus of the town,

"I can't tell you how much I'll appreciate the help, it can be pretty frantic around here especially with the robbers and bastar…" He paused chuckling at his profanity, "Sorry, no good natives."

"Robbers?"

"They aren't that bad a problem anymore, the law enforcement has gotten better at their jobs." Still, it didn't seem like much of a way to greet her. Telling her of robbers, it only added to her anxiety,

"You'll be staying at the hotel here. If I go off of what I remember, I think it closely resembles something you might see in the east. Hopefully you'll find yourself at home."

That moment they actually arrived in front of the inn. Peter propped open the door with his foot, motioning for Alice to step through the wooden doors. At the counter a Chinese man stood ready to serve them for whatever they needed. Alice smiled to be polite, but he paid her no mind,

"You need room?" His English was broken and sounded of a thick Pacific eastern accent. Clearly he had just stepped off the boat from Asia,

"Yes, we're looking to book a long term stay. One room should do it." When the man gave the price for a two month stay, both Alice and Peter raised their eyebrows. She hastily began to rummage through her pockets, but before she had a chance to open her case Peter held out a hand to her,

"I'll cover this."

"Oh I can't allow you to…"

"It's alright." He laughed, pulling out a nice wad of cash. She gave a weak smile to him as he turned to her, "Every thing's set. I'll let you settle in for the night. Tomorrow we'll begin your job." She thanked him and began her trot up the staircase.

She had been told that it was the first door on her right. The room given to her was decorated with green wallpaper with a double bed. It had a window, her favorite part of the whole room. It had in fact lived up to her expectations. Not too luxurious and not too rural. Maybe a simple life in the middle of no where wouldn't be too bad.

Lugging the large suitcase onto the bed became a task more difficult than she had presumed. The second wasn't an exception. She sighed. Not just that the luggage was tough to lift, but after remembering her predicament. She closed her eyes, leaning over the now opened suitcase. Feeling the warm tears welt in the corners of her eyes was the worst feeling in the world. Without thinking, she turned to dash out of the room.


	3. Trapped

The young girl stood tall, silently battling the thick salty sea air as it whipped across her tear stained face. The day was unusually cool for a border state, each passing wind feeling like needles against such soft skin as hers. In reality it was no where near freezing. But her senses were stimulated to the point where every gust of wind stung. It didn't help that the fact that she was in such a predicament was leading to her internal demise.

The girl was not terribly pretty, but not hard to gaze and admire from afar. Her alluring charm was enough to trick one into making herself appear so, although it was not true. She possessed almost pasty white skin was not fit for a usual sun hoarding environment, as her complexion appears untouched.

Her hair whipped back in the salty wind, the grey sky only slightly allowing her curls to shine. The sting of the salt forced her to squint her Sapphire blue eyes, which began to water under both internal and external pressure.

"I can't do this anymore." A feeling of guilt and self-pity overwhelmed her. Suddenly, she felt as though she was thrust into one of the many cliché teenage sympathy stories, only this time she was living it, "I'm only seventeen."

A throbbing pain pounded throughout her body as she came crashing down to her knees. Her pale blue skirt instantly stained by clumped wet sand, eroded from the sea,

"I'm sorry Mother, Father." Her face fell into her palms, staining her icy red fingers that shook with tears.

For the past few days, she felt as if her life had begun a downward spiral. Her life had seemed to begun, before being thrust into the horrible reality of being a woman in a man's world. She was a child actor, having started from a young age with dance and since then has worked up to her dream of staring in Broadway. Even the thought of her dream brought hope to her even in the most dark of hours, even now. She felt as if her dream was the last shred of dignity she had to hold onto, and it was being ripped away from her in a blink of eternity's eye.

About a year ago, when she was newly sixteen, she stared in a mature roll of the play _A World of Pleasure_ along with one man in particular. While she quite enjoyed the company of this man, it only turned disastrous as he began seeking her companionship. Before she knew it, this man was approaching her parent's for her hand in marriage, much to their chagrin only weeks before now. Unwillingly, she was forced to accept under the condition that she was to be sent away for two months. She wished for it to be an opportunity to escape, and she was ready to. She was willing to go to great lengths to ensure that she would not be married to this man, even if it meant leaving her own family.

Her parents had something different in mind for their agreement to her condition. Instead of risking her unfaithful disappearance, they decided to send her to a place unheard of. She would be sent to Charles's Nephew, Peter Thatcher, in Blackwater, Texas. There she would practice her skills of a housewife while tending to a small store in this middle-of-nowhere town. While in a city, where she could easily find a connection and escape off the next ship to Europe, in the middle of no where she would be stranded with a monitored train the only means of transportation. It was the perfect place to suit her agreement, but assure her obedience to her chosen suitor.

Her sobs softened, eventually fading to slight sniffs separated by moments. She fell to sit upon the murky sand. It felt soft, comforting to her tense body. The stress of the situation was getting to her, the toll was clearly seen upon appearance. Slowly, she pulled her thighs to her chest, resting her chin upon her knee caps. For a moment she regained her composure. It was soon lost again, as louder sobs began to escape her throat. She moaned in emotional pain before being suddenly interrupted,

"Excuse me, Madam?" Her head popped up, snapping like a rubber band to find the culprit for the mysterious voice, " Is there a problem?"

Her expression fell from shock back to her former solemn state. A rustic looking man stood in the distance, only a few feet off. It was difficult to make out his face under the shade of his black hat. Draped around his shoulders were many bullets, which slightly shocked the girl, leaving her with the odd instinct to book it out of there. She ignored her hunch, only observing him for moments more. If he was offering his condolences in her time of need who was she to stop him. He wore what seemed to be normal attire in the more countrified parts of this area, a tan jacket, white button up shirt with a red bandana around his neck. A rancher perhaps. She quickly whipped away more tears with her white sleeve,

"Oh nothing. Well, if you consider being in a strange town in the middle of no where about to be married to a man you could never love fine, then I must be in a grand mood." She turned her head back to inspect the man. His eyes were filled with confusion, with a cocked eyebrow. She let out a sigh as she continued, "My apologies, sir, I just… I have a lot of stuff happening to me all at once, it's… hard to cope. I didn't mean to attract attention." Her cheeks turned red as embarrassment absorbed her. She was ranting, and the one person she had to console in was probably ready to escape at first notice. He didn't, instead he drew closer,

"It's no disturbance, Miss. And I guess you could say I know the feelin. Bein pressured that is." She lifted her head once more, scanning the man from head to toe with an inspecting glance,

"Oh really? Not exactly a pleasant predicament, is it." He smiled, letting out a slight chuckle as his eyes drifted to the horizon,

"No." An awkward pause followed. Yet, for some reason, it almost felt comforting, " So this crying is over…?" The end of the sentence was left open for her to finish,

"A man. S man I don't even like. I have to… marry him." The words felt sour against her lips, she scowled at the thought of even marrying him, "He's not a bad man… really. He's kind and wealthy, but he's so… well you could infer the feeling of being trapped into it something you don't want. He never sees past his front door. I could never marry someone like him, although it seems as if I may have to."

"If you don't like him… why are you marrying him?" She gave a sarcastic laugh in response,

"Like I have a choice. I was hoping maybe to escape this arranged marriage, but it didn't work out so well and here I am. My apologies sir, truly, this isn't something you must concern yourself with…"

"He sent you to Texas?" It didn't bother her that he had disregarded a lot of what she had said. He was offering her a chance to vent, and she would jump at the chance to do it,

"Well, um, no. I asked to visit a different city before I accepted the idea of marrying him, to sort out my thoughts or something of the like. My parent's had a different idea, and sent me here with my cousin instead. They must not trust me in another busy place, I assume."

"So they sent you to outlaw country?"

"Like I said, none of us really thought it through. But… anything to escape that retched man." Her grasp tightened around her thighs, as she peered off into the distance. The man took a seat besides the girl, resting an elbow on one bent knee. He thought for a moment as his gaze drifted to the gray skin that seemed to touch the dark sea in the distance. There was no way after what he'd been through that he could ever come up with such comforting words as to ease the situation. As usual, he tried to connect it to one of the many books he read in his youth,

" Come on, I'm sure he's not that bad. If your parents want you to marry him he must be something great."

"You'd think. To be frank, sir, I'm not sure if they care about my own thoughts."

"I'm sure that ain't true. Even in the stories where the mother or father may seem most evil, they have a reason for thinking the way they do." She was silent for a moment, her gaze directed back at the sea, "I read a book once, and it was a lot like the situation you're in now."

"Really? Tell me more."

"It wasn't too great. But this royal girl, she also had an arranged marriage. But see, she had already grown to love another man. To escape it she snuck out one night and found a way to live as a peasant with him in pure serenity… stupid, I know."

"Hah, maybe I should become a peasant. Dress in rags running around to find my true love." They both laughed. The girl stopping to smile at the man, "Do you believe in them?" she prodded

"What?"

"Happy endings, they all seem like make believe."

"Depends on a person's choices, I suppose. But after walkin a day in my shoes, Miss, it'd be pretty hard to believe." A long awaited smile lifted the corners of her lips. Maybe it could happen.

"What's your name?"

"Jack, Jack Marston. And yours?"

"Alice Thatcher." She stared into his eyes, her head cocked to the left resting it on her knees. His eyes where dark, even more so under the shade of his hat. It was difficult to make out his face. Her gaze drifted as she released her legs. She stumbled to stand brushing the moist dark sand off her skirt. She held a hand out a hand to the sitting man, he took it politely, " I think I really must be getting back home now, I've been away long enough. It was nice meeting you Mister Marston." _If only more men were like you._

"Likewise, Good Luck in finding that happy ending."

"I'll try." She turned, taking a few steps in the opposite direction, but stopping to look back at the man. She stumbled, walking backwards in small increments. She spoke with a soft embarrassed voice, " And thank you… for keeping me from drowning in my own tears."


	4. A Shame

The morning was young to the knowledge of the city girl. It had to be nearing seven o'clock with the sounds of the crickets having silenced hours ago. The sun was making it's daily debut as it rose over the grassy plains and shed light on the town of Blackwater. Rays of light stretched their arms even into the hotel room, their fingers grazing the cedar floors granting the gift of sight through the darkness. Alice had pushed open the blinds and cracked a window, allowing the morning air to freshen that of her cramped room.

She was making the final touches of her ensemble. Caring far more than most others in the town about her appearance did not bother her, only made her feel closer to home. A home where looks were a woman's sole deciding factor if you would be accepted. Now that she thought about it, why was she so keen on dressing up in a town of hicks? No matter. She had finished her hair, tying it into a loose bun that let her curls form a bob like structure resting on her shoulders. It was a style first inspired by the French and quickly took hold in the east. She was fond of it.

Noticing her lack of time, she reached for shoes and was out the door. She struggled to put on her heels walking down the stairs, and was sure to make a note of it to never try that again. It would take anywhere from three to five minutes to get to the store, but her boss being her cousin she wasn't that nervous about being scolded. Still, she decided to double step her way down the street.

When she arrived at the store, Peter was already frantically running around the small enclosed space. He seemed to be counting things and mumbling bits of information to himself. She considered asking what he was doing, but instead tried to make her presence known so that he could speak to her first. She sat on a stool behind the counter. No response. She scooted it across the squeaky floor boards. Still nothing. Finally she slammed a book on the counter. At that the jittery man jerked his head to look at her. He seemed to mouth goddamn with his lips due to the surprise, but was careful to remain silent,

"Oh hello, Alice! Sorry it just seems I'm missing a couple things." He turned back to inspect the shelves, slowly rubbing his chin between his index finger and thumb, "I'm probably going to need to make a run out to…" If he meant for her to hear, his goal was not met. She leaned in at an attempt at understanding the whispers, "Yeah, here. I'm going to make a run out to the shed. I won't be long, watch the store for me?"

"But Peter, I…"

"I won't be long. If someone comes in let them know I won't be long."

He was wrong, it was going on half an hour and he was still not back. She buried her face in her fists trying to keep herself awake with her shaking foot. Her legs were crossed as she sat in her seat, bobbing her leg up and down. At the sound of a creaking door she lifted her head,

"Peter?" Her dazed eyes were fogged trying to make out the shadow of a man in front of the store entrance. She was about to his him a mouthful for making her wait alone in a boring store for what felt like hours when she realized that it was not Peter.

A man of tall stature, about six foot three stood in the store now. He had a hunched stature adding to his intimidating features. His skin was dark, and his shaggy hair black. The feather in his hair gave away the fact that he was one of the natives. It was easy to say that Alice was taken off guard and a bit frightened at the man. _Oh God, where is Peter?_,

"I'm sorry, sir. If you'd wait a few more minutes someone should arrive to assist you…" She was barely able to finish the sentence before the man had taken long strides across the room and pointed a silver revolver in her face. Her eyes widened as she began to shake,

"Money, now." His voice was rough and he spoke in grunts. He prodded the gun in her face, "Now." She hesitated, before rushing over to the cash register that sat in the corner.

It took her a moment to realize that Peter hadn't had a chance to teach her how to use the darned thing. She pressed every button on the piece of machinery, shaking as each button released a different loud gear inside the complex metal box. _Why won't this goddamn box open?_ Her fingers shook, realizing that with a simple pull of his trigger her life could be taken. Finally it decided to cooperate, taking her off guard as the bottom shelf sprung out. Before she knew it the tall man was piling every piece of paper the register held.

* * *

><p>It was supposedly a normal day, if you consider catching bounty's as a way of redeeming your fathers soiled name normal that is. It was around evening, the sun was setting and the Marston boy was making his last rounds, when he heard the screams and curses loud enough for the whole town of Black Water to hear.<p>

Without much of a thought the man reigned in his horse, steering it to take off down the street. The source of the screams came from a young woman stomping her way out of a store screaming into the distance. Jack leaped off the moving horse, stopping it to calmly inspect the woman.

She normally might have appeared quite beautiful, maybe even refined. Rare to find out in the middle of no-where New Austin. Her hair bounced as she threw dirt in her fit of rage. Her eyes were a sapphire blue, not very much in contrast to her pale skin. She must have just arrived considering anyone who had spent a week in Texas with that pale of skin would be burnt to a crisp.

The idea crossed him to maybe just ignore it, but he truly had nothing else better to do rather than head to the saloon. He approached her calmly, waving his hands in front of her in an attempt at calming,

" Excuse me Miss Thatcher, might I ask why you're disturbin the peace?" He shifted his weight to one leg, letting his hands fall to his side.

The girl sharply turned her head to the rustic man. She let out a huff, shoving a lock of hair that laid upon her face behind her ear. Her rosy cheeks burned as did her temper

" So you remember me?" She sounded out of breath, and a little annoyed with the question.

"Aren't you the lady who was crying on the beach before?"

"That would be me." She directed her eyes away out of embarrassment,

"It seems as if trouble has a way of finding you if I do recall. What is it this time?"

"That man just stole all of our weeks earned money, No good…!" She held a hand over her mouth to sustain from using any profanities, "I'd go after him myself but I'm not much of a threat." She pointed off down the road in the direction that the thief had taken off, "Please help us!"

Jack took her response as a plead for help. Without much thinking he mounted his Black Stallion, riding quickly in the direction the woman had pointed. He had this all down to a science, how to catch a thief and without killing him. It was something he took minimal pride or interest in, but if he had the skill why not use it in a couple pinches. Minutes later he had hogtied the thief and left him squirming on the pavement. He took the bag of stolen money, and started off down the road back towards the store.

Out of the store stepped the beautiful woman. She shined a smile in his direction as he dismounted his horse once more.

"Oh Mister Marston!"

"I believe this is yours." She gratefully took the bag of money he offered out to her, embracing him with a warm hug that seemed to take him off guard. He uncomfortable patted her on the back in response,

"I could never thank you enough! Here, come in I'm sure I could offer you some form of compensation." She started towards the door,

"That won't be necessary." He stuttered as he followed her in the store,

"For goodness sakes, can't you men accept a, oh what do you call it… a bounty?" She laughed at her own stupidity, a still a little embarrassed at herself.

He nearly stumbled into a few baskets filled with produce following her in, but saved them without making much noise. The walls behind the counter lined with selves that held books and trinkets, which caught his attention. Although books had been a main interest in his childhood, he had long abandoned the dream of becoming an educated man after avenging his fathers death.

He lifted his head to see the woman frantically shuffling through shelves behind the counter. Jack turned back to the other walls, observing the many books. He longed to pick up an old thick novel, it had been ages since the last one he read. One about a boy avenging his fathers death, odd how it played out. It reminded him much of his own story.

"I apologize again. As you said, it seems trouble has a way of finding me."

"It's no problem, Miss."

"I mean, I… I must be nothing but a pest. The whiney little eastern girl, what does she know?" She laughed at her own self pity,

"Not at all. In fact I was thinking' just the opposite. It must be difficult bein so far from home and all." A sarcastic laugh escaped her lips. The girl picked up a box from behind the counter,

"It's a relief if anything. The west seems much more appealing to me than such a busy city like New York." She dropped the box on a table next to Jack. She leaned with her back against it to face him, " The simplicity and all. Also I get to escape that issue I mentioned before."

She spoke a perfect English. Every word perfectly spoken with the voice of an angel. This was the second time meeting her, and even though she had been so frustrated moments before, she seemed much different now. Much more calm, it made her appear much more approachable and beautiful when her looks were not tainted with such solemn emotions.

"So would you say this is normal out here? A young woman being robbed right from under her nose? It's despicable." The man shrugged,

"I hate to say it, but I'd be lyin' if I were to deny it."

"That's a shame." She shook her head as her gaze fell to the floor.

"I do my best to help it, I might not be a sheriff, but I do what I can."

" You're very kind for it." She half smiled up at him, causing him to shoot his gaze to the floor, " It must be somewhat of a pain, you know, having to so kindly protect people that probably wouldn't have done the same. It's hard to find chivalry in a man anymore." His gaze remained glued to the floorboards.

"Well, I best be um." He scratched the back of his head as he turned towards the door, "getting to that thief, he's probably still pissed layin on the sidewalk disturbing the uh… peace." Alice saw him stumble to the door,

"Stop by anytime you're available, I could use the company." She smiled at him as he tried to regain his composure after once again running into a produce basket.

"That I will, Miss Thatcher." He started down the road.

She leaned against the door frame, holding her arm with one hand, "Oh and Mister Marston." The woman raced out of the store with a book in hand. Handing it to him she spoke,

"I remember you having an interest in books." It was true that he had, but it puzzled him how he mentioned it so subtly and she still noticed. She must be an observant one, "You can call me Alice." She smiled at the man as he turned to head back. She would do the same.

As she opened the door she heard a man walking towards her. Cocking her head to take a look she noticed that Peter had finally arrived. _Right on time _she sarcastically joked to herself. It was very out of character for her to have any hint of sarcasm, but after all she'd just been through it seemed appropriate,

"Welcome back. Do you have everything you were looking for?" The man was panting, having practically ran the whole way there and back. He leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees,

"I looked everywhere, and no luck. What'd I miss?" Alice laugh, opening the door for the both of them,

"A lot actually."


	5. Nothing More

The town of Blackwater seemed more busy than normal that evening. More gentlemen and ladies of class filled the streets than normal. It was strange that less than twenty years ago the town had been one of the many frontier cities, littered with scum and their horses rather than a civilized people. Now it was evident that the city was becoming modernized. It was the first of the area to succumb to the future ways of discarding the old west.

He tried not to be a distraction, riding in on his Black as night stallion from the direction of the setting sun. A few women dressed up in their Sunday best seemed to eyeball him, but he paid no mind. At least he tried not to. Only kept his horse trotting down the paved streets. He passed each inn and store, one by one, until he reached the building that just a few days ago he had saved from bankruptcy. It seemed to be a gut reaction to stop, and just as he did the familiar woman stepped out,

"Why hello, Mister Marston!" She held her coat in her full arms as she closed the door behind her. She had to lift her head slightly to make eye contact with the man,

"Good evenin, Alice. If we're goin by first names here I don't see why you can't call me by mine." A wide but practiced smile filled her lips,

"Very well, Jack. May I ask what your business here at this hour?" He had already tied his horse to the hitching post by the building and dismounted,

"Just passin by, I'm afraid. Does the shop close so soon?"

"Heavens, no. Peter, my cousin who actually owns the shop, runs the store into the ungodly hours. I must find my way back to the inn to get my nights rest before then." A women did need her beauty sleep, in her opinion, or she was not a force to be reckoned with. Jack turned his head when she mentioned the inn, pointing down the road then looking back at her,

"This inn?"

"Yes sir."

"I could, um, see you there. If, If you wanted." His stuttering always got worse when he was around her for more than thirty seconds. He wouldn't admit it but something about her made him lose part of his mind, probably her beautiful face. Embarrassed by the stutter, he did his best not to look her in the eye,

"That would be very kind of you."

"How long are you expectin to be stayin in Blackwater?"

"My father gave me two months to sort out my thoughts and to accept my "chosen fate"."

"That's a long time to be away from home."

"Not enough if you were to ask me. This is probably my first time away from my parents in my life."

"Serious?"

"Very! I've grown to dread their company. Alice stand up straight, Alice speak properly! It's completely insane!"

"I don't think I've ever met a woman with such proper ways, if that means anything."

"Thank you, Jack." Her cheeks flushed into a rosy color. She tried to hide it, but the comment brought about a giddiness inside her, "I haven't met many men as understanding as you."

"I find that hard to believe."

The two continued down the paved sidewalk. They neared the inn already, but for some reason Jack was relenting to let her go. Once they stopped in front of the end, he protested,

"If you weren't too busy, I'd like to spend more time with you, sometime, maybe if it was alright with you." An unexpected light seemed to brighten her face. Any chance to get away and enjoy her stay outside of the town seemed good enough for her,

"Would tonight be alright?" Jack turned his head to inspect the sun set,

"It's getting late, we'd have to leave now."

"I'll just go put away my things."

"So what's life like in, New York anyway?" He asked, The two forced their horses into a trot as they rode them down the dirt path. To the right of the road were already power lines, a sign of the dieing western way of life if you were to think about it closely. Of course they did not hold the kind of electricity we use today, but the power of communication through telegraph.

" The icon of the East. We have pretty much everything, Broadway, Booming Industries, Airplanes. I should probably count my blessings… but it feels a bit empty at times." Alice held her head high in pride despite the former comment. The East had a lot to be proud of and that was for sure.

"Airplanes? You mean one of those flying machines? I heard they could turn men into angels."

"That's a bit silly. But they sure can make you fly." She paused for a moment, turning her gaze off the road to the fixed Jack, " Maybe you could come back East some time, you might just get to experience it yourself." He laughed a bit,

"Thanks for the offer, but I'd probably have to pass."

"Very well, Mister Marston. I guess we all have our fears."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Oh please, we all have some. Mine are…" She turned her head, "Well, even though I'm glad to be away from my parents, being away from home gives me such anxiety. I fear something bad might happen."

"As long as I'm around, I'll try my best to keep you safe."

"You already have, and I've thanked you for it. But what about yours? Even a man as hardened as yourself out here in the west must have some secret fear."

"Nope."

"You're lying."

"I've seen it all. Thieves, Banditos, people shot in cold blood." Alice lifted a hand to her mouth,

"I'm so sorry."

"The west will do that to ya, Ma'am. That's why I find it hard to believe your father sent you straight to it." To be honest she wasn't all that sure either. She'd like to think that he hadn't a clue about the dangers, but she wasn't sure,

"Maybe he thought adventure is what I need."

"I fear for your safety. Don't do anything stupid."

"What would you consider a stupid deed?"

"Leaving Blackwater without my company."

"Because women can't do anything right without a big strong man to guide them, am I right?"

"I've known quite a few women who can hold a gun. Not many who could use it."

" You're digging yourself a hole. Women are slowly but surely gaining the right to many things, including voting."

"Soon enough you'll all be men yourselves." He chuckled slightly at his own comment,

"Excuse me?"

"I'm only Joshin ya. In my opinion women have a better idea of what's right than us men."

"Glad to know some of you have some sense. You are one of a kind, Jack."

The hours passed by fast. Soon enough the night had matured into complete darkness. Darkness to the point where it was hard to see a few feet in front of where you stood. It was the kind of night that kept you up with the sounds of a coyotes wail and the signing voice of the crickets. Each noise carried on in the cool black atmosphere. Through the darkness they managed to find their way back into town.

Jack was the first to bring his horse to a stop, moving quick enough to find his way over to Alice's horse. He held out a hand to help her dismount her chestnut colored horse that was the same grayed shade as all others at this hour,

"I'll take Peter's horse back to the shed."

"Thank you." She smiled knowing that he probably couldn't see her, " I feel like I've said thank you a whole lot."

"It's fine." He chuckled at her apologetic statement.

She looked up to allow her eyes to meet his. At this point she could careless if her cheeks turned pink again, he couldn't see. It was odd to him that she could still smile at him, he was so used to grimaces for his unkempt self. She really was different. Who would have thought that someone raised by the usually prejudice upper-class would turn out to accept someone like him,

"Well I best be getting him over there then. You get yourself some sleep, Miss Thatcher." He swiftly mounted the horse, pulling a rope from his satchel. He roped the neck of her horse to reign him in,

"It's Alice."

"Alice." He smiled down at her, she returned it,

"Goodnight, Jack." To that he tipped his hat and started down the road.

She couldn't help but feel the side of her mouth tug to form a half smile. Why was it that this man kept finding her? Not to say that she didn't enjoy his company, he was a very intelligent and kind man. Maybe a bit naïve, but they both were. If anything he was more matured than she. Here she was over analyzing it all, he was just a man she met two days ago. Nothing more. She turned the knob of the door and let herself in.

* * *

><p>Well that's all for the pre mades. My updates for this story probably won't be as frequent from now on considering I had already written these months ago. I hope you enjoyed it! :) Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated as well as critique. Same goes for all the past chapters!<p> 


	6. Two Very Different Worlds

"Sweet… Lord Almighty these shoes are killing me! They're only a size 4!" Each word spoken was thoroughly exaggerated as they came out of Alice's wide mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut as she hoisted herself up onto the store counter. Pain was evident on her face as she battled to keep the shoes on, despite her deepest need to detach the obviously small heels from her only tools for walking, "Ouch! I can't take it! Hand me that stool!"

Alice waved a hand in the direction of a wooden stool that sat in the corner of the room. Not wanting to make her wait more than she needed to, Jack complied in lifting the seat with one hand and placing it on floor in front of the counter. She lifted her feet and placed her shiny black heels onto the surface. Detaching the buckles from the straps of the shoes proved to be a more difficult task when one's goal was to get them off fast.

"I don't understand you women. Why would you butcher your own feet?" He pointed an accusing finger at her bruised feet as she pulled them out of the soles of the leather encasements. Impression lines were clear along the ankles of both her legs. Red and deep, they looked painful as they began to swell ever so quickly,

"It's not so bad." She gave a weak smile as she stared at her feet with half open eyes, "It's the price of beauty."

"That's dumb." Her smile widened at the comment, it was very stupid. Why did women insist on making lasting damage to their bodies? She slapped him with one of her free leather shoes,

"You're dumb." She leaned back on the counter, stretching an arm to reach the selves that held a pair of comfortable looking shoes Peter had bought for her within the past few days. He had made a comment that the shoes she wore from New York wouldn't suit her here, but she refused to listen. Now the soft looking soles were more tempting than ever,

"This is nothing compared to my first Pointe Shoes experience. I figure you don't know much about dance but, when I began to use them I lost a toenail. It was one of the most painful things…" She smiled up at the man. He didn't seem to be paying much attention, but that didn't bother her,

"I got shot in my right shoulder." It seemed like he meant it in a joking way, but it was proved to be true as he seemed to touch it in pride. Like it made himself more impressive,

"You win." They both smiled, laughing slightly.

The two of them had been seeing a lot of each other in the past 2 weeks. Jack stopped by often, much to Alice's excitement. Of course any company was a relief from the silence floating around her cramped and humid prison of a store. Most of the time Peter was gone, which was not exactly what she had in mind when he said that she would be his 'help'. Surprisingly he still had not met Jack. She figured that when the time came that they'd both be in the store at the same time they could meet.

As Alice slipped on her last shoe, a tiny bell rang to signal that the store's entrance door had been opened. Both Alice and Jack turned their heads to it's attention to find that it was Peter who had finally arrived. He seemed to cock an confused eyebrow at the sight of Alice talking to a man unknown to him, but proceeded onwards anyway,

"Is it very ladylike of you to be sitting on the counter?" He joked, walking over to greet her. She grinned at him,

"Very funny. Peter, this is Jack Marston."

"Nice to meet you, friend." He took his palm in his hand, giving it a vigorous shake, "Did you ever get around to delivering that shipment to that place over in Tall Trees?"

"I couldn't leave in your absence. Who'd run the store?"

"Alice, they need that shipment by noon, it's already eleven thirty!" Well where was he in the first place? It was typical of Peter to sleep in, but if this shipment was so urgent why didn't he do it himself? The stressed man spoke in a way that made it seem like it was her fault. He began running his hand through his hair trying to figure out what he was going to do.

Alice rolled her eyes at her frantic cousin, bopping up out of her sitting position to start towards the door. She seemed to float across the floor, her hips swaying in a sassy fashion,

"I'll handle it, calm down. It shouldn't take more than a half hour anyways." Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the Marston boy still standing in the same place like a deer caught in the headlights, "Are you coming, Jack? I hear there are bears in that area, I could use someone who's handy with a gun."

* * *

><p>"I'll drive." He climbed into the directors seat of the carriage taking the horses reigns in hand, "Manzanita's Post, right?"<p>

"It's the trading post over in Tall Trees, I'm not aware of the name."

"I know what he's talking about."

"Swell. But you heard him, we had better be quick, they're expecting their goods now."

The fact that she found a ride in a carriage so amusing was proof of how much of a city girl she truly was. Being raised with the very earliest models of cars invented at the beginning of the 20th century was all but normal to her. Down here on borderline Texas, even the oldest of vehicles caught the straying eye like a fly to a porch light. The sight of a living animal pulling you along without having to rest on it's back like the common sport was thrilling to her,

"Have you ever seen a car, Jack?"

"Yes."

"How many?"

"Not a lot."

"What did you think of them?"

"My Pa always used to call them unreliable, slow even. I think they have potential, really."

"I only ask because I've only ridden in one of these a couple… well not ever really. This is my first time."

"You spoiled girl."

"Am I really? I guess I never really knew until I came down here, I don't get out that often."

"I figured that. But there's nothing wrong with it, you were just raised somewhere else. We come from two different worlds, Alice. Two very different worlds."

It was true. Here she was a city girl down in the middle of the prairie United States. Soon enough it would all become civilized, and this rustic man's way of life would be transformed into something he might not even grasp yet. But unlike most people around the area, Jack made an effort to educate himself. He still enjoyed an occasional book, and thanks to that he was more adapt to change than most natives.

Before they she knew it they had come to a stop on the road in the middle of the forest. On the side of the trail sat the rather large log cabin used as a trading post. Many hunters came here to sell their furs and meat they had collected from their sport, and because of this it also served as a prime place to purchase ammo and other hunting supplies. Peter would receive shipments of goods like knives and bullets, and naturally would supply the post with them in return for furs and currency. Jack was the first to begin unloading the supplies. Alice followed, but found herself standing there with a puzzled look on her face when she began receiving howdy and other calls from the porch of the cabin,

"Hello sweet Doll, how's about you come on up here and give Daddy some lovin." Other men began to laugh, making other whistles and noises at her. A look of panic enveloped her expression as she looked to Jack for guidance,

"How's about I come over there and give you a bullet to the head." The laughter was instantly silenced by his obvious intimidating statement. The bearded old man stood, peering at the young man from the porch,

"Is that a threat, boy?" As if it were some natural response of a language of violence, both men instantly drew their pistols much to Alice's shock. Her eyes widened, but instantly were filled with pain and worry at her realization. She lifted a hand to his arm, trying to signal him to put his peacemaker away,

"Please, I don't want to start anything." Peeling the glare from his insensitive elder, he managed to find the strength through Alice's sapphire eyes to proceed with the delivery.

She followed him to the back of the carriage, but the man spoke once more just as he was lifting one of the crates,

"That's right, listen to the whore."

Alice had her own sense of control. Being raised as a proper women it was all part of her discipline to learn to ignore things. Comments of the rude variety were something she had grown accustomed to from people who had honestly grown jealous of her. Jack, on the other hand, had inherited a temper. Need for revenge was something that ran through his blood. This often set him up for trouble.

She could see his arms tense in grip as he bobbed his head. It almost seemed as if his body shook in anger. He needed to retaliate. He needed to teach his elder in age but not in maturity some manners. He needed to shoot the man. She held an arm out to grab his bicep, attempting to give him the strength to not do anything stupid,

"It's heavy, I can do it." He grunted. It was his way of telling her to get back to the Stagecoach.

In what felt like forever he finally finished unloading the Stagecoach. She breathed a sigh of relief when he was given the OK to go ahead and leave the Post with their profit. With a flick of the reigns the horses started down the forest trail through Tall Trees. The first moments since the departure were all but in awkward silence, but soon enough Alice found the courage to speak up like she always could,

"What on earth was that all about."

"That was your typical western bastard."

"It was a little unexpected, don't you think?"

"Honestly, it ain't uncommon for most men around here to be like that."

"That's unfortunate…"

"You shouldn't be acting so surprised, you're gonna run into it a lot from now on. Or at least as long as your down here. You best get used to it now." A frown formed on the young woman's face as her eyebrows furrowed,

"I wasn't the one about to pull out a darned gun and shoot up the place like some caveman."

"My God."

"What were you trying to do, get us killed?"

"Excuse me for trying to stand up for you."

"Stand up for me? I'm a Lady, I can keep my temper." His response was nothing but angry mumbles to himself. Alice merely kept her mouth shut for the time being, angrily pouting to herself.

In the distance she could see plenty of greenery blanketed in a sheet of white. Trees as high as the tallest building in the area stood on top of the rolling hills, simulating waves across the landscape miles above the ground. The snow was mesmerizing.. She turned around in her seat to fetch her coat from the storage in the back. Hastily shoving her arms through both holes, she jumped from the moving carriage. She pulled her coat sides together across her chest, bundling herself up as she got up from her knees and began trading across the snow layered ground,

"What do you… Were do you think you're going?" Her frown remained plastered to her face. She marched on without turning, "We can't just leave the Stagecoach here, we'll get robbed. Alice!" He yelled out after her, finally being forced to evacuate the driver's seat. He followed after the girl with a quickened pace, eventually catching up to her. With a grip tighter than he implied attached to each of her shoulders, he forcefully whipped her around to face him, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Let me go!"

"Are you trying to get yourself killed? There are…" He was cut off by the growl of something from far off.

Jack was the first to turn his head reluctantly while Alice peaked out of a squinted eye. In the distance, a cougar or some other large cat was evident in shape. Maybe it was a Mountain Lion. No matter the species, it seemed to frighten both of them with it's loud voice. Jack reached for his shotgun that hung around his back, but was stopped by her hand after she had been released. Luckily it had not spotted them, or at least had targeted them. Both stood in ah, watching from afar as he approached his target that he had began to scare off with it's scream earlier. It's speed was amazing as it lunged at it's prey, a White Tailed Deer. Attacking the helpless creature was not a careful or discrete act to be kept tidy. Only vicious and wild, barbaric like. With it's sharp teeth it began to bite into the victim's neck, brining about it's final breaths and the end to it's short life.

How is it be that the life of the most peaceful are always the ones to be taken by the self righteous? The one's who lack all but strength? Is it naivety of the prey, or a lust for power of the predator? If only life could be in reverse, maybe life could reach a goal of justice. But it is, in fact, destiny for those with power to become corrupt and be set back into the vicious cycle of tyranny and chaos.

Her sapphire eyes continued to weakly gaze in agony for the innocent animal. Was there a purpose or fate in her being there at that moment? Even though it was only part of nature, it still brought about a renewed pain in her face. Jack saw this. He gazed at her, standing so close. His voice was soft now, almost calming,

"We should get back." Her loosely tied up hair swiftly flew through the chilled air as she turned her head back to him.

"I don't want to leave just yet, Jack." It took all his strength to suppress a groan while boarding the Stagecoach once more. Instead, he jumped back down, turning around to her with a look of sarcastic amusement in her difficulty,

"Why not?"

"I'm not ready to… Can you show me this area? I do love the snow."

"It's dangerous." She pleaded once more. To that he gave a scoff laugh while he thought. He sighed,

"C'mon." He motioned towards the Stagecoach.

* * *

><p>Aurora Basin felt extra cool that evening. It had not snowed, but the dry chills in the air was enough to cool even the warmest of bodies. The water was the kind of cold that could kill a drowning man through hypothermia faster than lack of oxygen. The top layer of the lake would forever be predicted to ice under the coldest of days, but it never did. Texas would never allow any water sources to freeze, no matter the climate of the area. And so it would remain a body of water with sub zero temperatures.<p>

The sun no longer laid in the middle of the sky, but resided some distance to the west. It shone on the glistening blankets of snow throughout the area. For the longest time one might wonder how many layers had fallen before, but never know. Only an artic tundra laid beneath the frosted ground. Very unusual for a border state.

Over the lake a wooden dock was built from the eastern side, emerging quite a distance into the body of water to allow prime fishing ability in the waters. Ice fishing practically. It was where the two young adults had spent the last few hours talking, sitting with their legs dangling below them just barely touching the freezing waters. It was nearing four o'clock, and they still had been talking without much pause. It was amazing how fast they had gotten to know each other over little more than two weeks. How fast one had grown fond of the other,

"Jack."

"Yeah?"

"You've heard of the war going on in Europe, right?"

"Of course, everyone has. You ask a lot of obvious questions."

"I'm sorry." She laughed with solemn eyes that gazed straight into the dark waters, "But what do you think of it?"

"It's a war. People die. What about it?"

"Do you think it will be the end? It's beginning to be called the Great World War."

"Alice, you've gotta understand that everyone will always think that war is the end when it never is." Her response was a drawn out silence as she continued to stare. His eyes followed hers, as they both stared down,

"I know that people are always going to disagree, and fight, but how can they let a war happen? Killing people until there is nothing left? It's barbaric."

"War is an ugly thing."

"It is. With all it's hate." A slight but warm smile formed on the corner of her lips, "But then again… it does seem to make love all the more sweeter."

To that he looked up at her. He found that smile on her lips comforting, but her words also brought about an uneasiness inside him. Love was something Jack had a hard time grasping. As a kid he always found himself wondering if he ever received it, or if it was ever his fault that he was never given the childhood he deserved. Here he was a young boy being handed the dangerous destiny that would normally been given to someone who had made the horrible decision on their own, not their parents.

Jack always felt detached. Even now, he would give anything to be able to change one thing in his past. He would want to know if his father ever even loved him. John sacrificed so much for his family, but only after causing them so much grief. He scared his children to the point where Jack's sister, Caroline, didn't want to have much to do with him at the tender age of eight. Never establishing a connection with the people who brought him into this world would forever leave him with an unclear message of how to receive or give love,

"Yeah. Love."

Alice looked back up at him. His eyes were already facing another direction. By the look of his face she could tell that he was deep in thought. Whenever he had that look on his face, she couldn't help but just wonder. Wonder what he was thinking, wonder who he was. There was still so much she wanted, needed to know about this Marston boy. She lifted her toes up from the chilled water, tucking her legs under herself and the wooden planks which made up the dock,

"Where did you come from, Jack?"

"Hell." She laughed,

"Really, did you grow up here?" Could he really tell her the truth? Lying would be so much easier, but it would never be the complete truth. He couldn't tell her, but he wasn't sure of an exact reason. Whether it be for fear or scaring her or rejection because of it, he couldn't tell her about his father. About his life and how he was raised by criminals and killers. He wouldn't,

"My Ma and my Pa married young, they built a ranch really close to Blackwater. They called it Beecher's Hope. We were farmers, all of us. My parents, my sister, and I."

"You have a sister?" Her voiced chimed,

"Had, she died of Cholera when she was ten." His fingered tightened into a balled fist, he clutched the dock, "It was probably one of the hardest things I've ever had to deal with." He looked up to the sky as he was about to finish, "Before you ask, no, my parents aren't living. My Pa died a year after my sister of… a fever. Guess you could say Ma died of a broken heart."

"I'm sorry." She paused, "I'm sure they're all in heaven, watching over you."

Alice inspected him as his whole body seemed to grow tense. His fists tightened, his jaw clenched, even through his eyes you could see a flame burning internally. Losing a sibling must be hard, but she would never know. She was an only child. The reality was especially difficult with the attachment those two shared. They were each others only friends having grown up in the harsh environment they did, not on a ranch,

"I was born and raised from childhood in New York. My father's very wealthy, and he always spoiled me and my mother." She gave a pain smile, "My mother was very strict, always telling me that I needed to be better at the classes I took. That my dancing was never quite perfect enough for her standards." She laughed. It was not out of happiness, but it had a hint of agony, "But she did it because she loved me."

Why did it always feel like such a lie? She would tell herself over and over again that they loved her. That they would perfect her because they loved her. But for the oddest reason, maybe it was selfish of her, she wished that they could love her for who she was. She wished they could love her and her faults. Maybe she wasn't as loved as she thought, "Father was loving, but he enforced the same rules as Mother. That I'd have to be perfect." Her body shook as she inhaled, choking back more tears, " I never wanted to disappoint them."

"You're shivering." She laughed. Here she was bawling over being too spoiled while he was perfectly fine with his whole family being deceased. How pathetic she felt. But had everything she said gone right through him? She sighed,

"It's just cold." Her eyes were shut as her head was turned away from him.

She felt a sudden tug around her waist. It was warm and brought about a pressure on her left side. Jack had wrapped his arm around her, bringing her closer to him,

"Gotta conserve body heat, right?" He gave an embarrassed laugh. She smiled, giving a weak but joyful laugh to match his. Against her will, former tears of sadness streamed down her rosy cheeks as she pressed her face against his shoulder.


	7. Reality Sets In

"Is the sun setting already?" A hint of panic could be heard through her voice. The sun seemed to be nearing the western horizon, setting within a matter of hours. It was in fact summer, a time in which the sun stayed in the sky even into the ungodly hours. But even those extra moments of light couldn't stay alive long enough to mask the amount of time Alice had been out. She prayed for Peter to be too distracted to scold her or to have not noticed. Although that was impossible.

Jack had driven her into town that evening. Even going as far as to tend to the horses to preserve the lost time. It wouldn't do much, but at the time she was a nervous wreck. She still was as she neared the store doors. Slowly, she pushed the thick oak entrance open trying to prevent the bell from ringing. Using her skills of grace, she was able to slip through the thin opening with minimal noise,

"Didja hear about that bear up in Tall Trees?" A husky rural looking man stood between her and the man who stood behind the counter,

"No I hadn't."

"A shit load of people have gone missin up there, it'd be a real shame if they weren't to turn up."

Peter was talking to a customer, perfect. Now if he could keep talking to the man long enough that would give her enough time to slip into the back room undetected. There she would do some inventory and pretend that she had arrived back hours ago. Maybe…

"Alice? Mind explaining where the hell you've been?" The man who had been speaking to him before had left so quickly after Peter's accusation. Hesitantly, she turned to him. She was so close to her destination, but not close enough, "You left seven hours ago! Do you know how scared out of my fucking mind I was? You could've been eaten by a…"

"I'm sorry, Peter."

"Sorry isn't enough to explain yourself. I can't even begin to explain how… do you know what your father would have done to me if I had let anything happen to you? What he will do? You better have one good explanation, lady."

"I was with Jack, I wasn't in any danger I promise…"

"That Marston boy? What were you off screwing him?"

"Good lord, No!"

"He's probably a nice man, but hell. I can't trust you around a guy who lets you wander off for hours when he knows I'm waiting. Not with the pressure of your father breathing down my neck."

"It's truly none of your business, Peter."

"Hell yes it is. What if this man…"

"He has a name!"

"I don't give a fuck." Shouting was something Peter never did. He was never angry, even now he was only speaking out of worry. He paused for a moment, leaning his back against the counter rubbing his temples with his index finger and thumb. His tone of voice lowered but still held strain in it's tone, "What if you had gotten raped by that man, or killed? What would I tell Charles? Just think about that. You may leave." He sighed deeply, shaking his head softly in shame.

Tears welted up in the corners of her sockets. A lump seemed to surface in her throat, preventing her from speaking. This was probably a good time to take his advice and leave if she could. But something prevented her. It was her fault for losing track of time. Peter had every right to be angry and she didn't resent him for his language. She felt a need to explain herself, and she felt horrible leaving him in such a distraught state,

"I didn't mean to lose track of time, Peter. I am completely and utterly responsible for my foolish actions. Any punishment you see fit I will accept." He didn't look up to her, just kept his eyes on the table surface where his hands were placed evenly spread to support him,

"I'm not trying to be the bad guy. I just want you to understand your fault and to make sure it doesn't happen again." Silence separated his thoughts, "It's late, you best be getting some rest from your _long _day."

She nodded, turning to leave the building with feet that flew across the floor. A thought struck him suddenly as she was near out the door,

"Oh, and Alice." he reached for a shelf under the counter top with one hand. As if she was shocked by his voice, she turned around with wide eyes, " You have a letter, it's from your fiancé." He stressed the last work with a stern voice, sliding the paper envelope across the wooden surface. Her eyebrows seemed to turn out at the mentioning of Clark. She snatched up the letter, dashing out of the room.

* * *

><p>The envelope felt cold between her slender fingers. It was addressed to the store, her Father must had given Clark the information as to where she was to stay for the next two months. Of course he did, he <em>was<em> her fiance, wasn't he? She rolled her eyes. That thought was something she had managed to suppress for the last few weeks. It wasn't something she looked forward to being confronted with upon her return to New York.

The slender teen sat meekly on the edge of her thin uncomfortable hotel bed. She was hunched over, unlike how she was taught to hold herself for all of her years. Finally she gathered the strength to open the, wait, was it already open? What a snitch Peter was. She rolled her eyes, pulling out the paper with cursive writing written so neatly in form.

_Dearest Alice,_

_When I was informed of your departure, to say the least I was quite shocked. I know my proposal must have come as some surprise, but I do hope it did not influence your decision to take a trip right after so negatively. It is no issue, but in all honest regards I will await your return with baited breath._

_As for your family, although it has only been near a month, they seem to miss you as well as I. You're near all your father talks about, as usual. As for me, I am well. We will discuss our marriage plans upon your return, if you will have me. Until then, I will continue to keep you in my every thought._

_ Your fiance,_

_ Clark_

Upon finishing the letter, a tear fell onto the faded parchment. She crumpled the paper into a ball in frustration, throwing it into a nearby trash bin. Was he truly expecting their marriage as an indefinite possibility that was almost certain? Why was it that whenever she seemed to had disregarded the fact, it found a new way to resurface.

Still, throughout these thoughts of the notorious Clark, she couldn't help but keep the thoughts of Jack in the back of her head. He had kept her from realizing her pain locked inside until now. Truly, she had grown to greatly trust this man in such a short time. Even now she yearned for his company. Although she knew the consequences for growing feelings for the man, she couldn't help but wonder about him. How did he view her? She tossed the remaining envelope in the trash on her way over to her vanity. For now, she would sleep. Maybe soon she would realize what her fate would be.


	8. A Swim in the Lake

"I do not believe for a moment that you cannot swim, Mister Marston!"

"Why would I ever need to?" His tone revealed him to be at least a bit embarrassed mixed with a less than pleased expression. The fact that a perfectly capable grown man was unable to propel himself through some shallow water was mind blowing and unheard of, at least to Alice.

The nearby lake had sparked a thought in the young woman's mind when their horses had trotted by. Asking him of his ability to swim seemed to prod a more reluctant response from her companion. He at first refused to answer, tipping hit hat in response to her comments like he hadn't heard a word she said. That was all it took for the talkative woman to speak up and eventually force his less than admirable response.

"For the fun of life. From what you've told me, you haven't had any form of relaxation in at least three years. Taking some time for yourself shouldn't prove too much of a sin in the eyes of god."

"_In the eyes of god._" His voice sounded mocking, provoking a joking glare from Alice. It must have put her over the edge, for at that moment she dismounted her horse, much to his surprise, "What're you doing?"

She placed her hands firmly on her hips to send the obvious message to listen to whatever she was about to say. A single eyebrow was raised at his response look,

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to teach you to swim myself."

"The hell you are."

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"Why are you such a pretentious woman?"

"Touche." She smirked at his own chuckling, trying hard not to abandon her serious demeanor. Motioning him over, she started towards the water, "Honestly, it won't be that bad. What's the worst that could happen?" He casually leaned against the horses neck, distracted by his own masculine habit of watching a woman move. God, the way she would move... He needed another distraction. He shook his head to himself,

"Drowning."

"Well then you'll die trying." She was already far too far gone for him to respond. He groaned, reluctantly hopping off the back of his stallion.

He didn't make it all the way to the water, soon stopping at the bank. Witnessing his unwillingness to get in the river, she frowned at the man standing so casually with his thumbs tucked into his belt. _What a little girl _she thought. It was time to change her game up. She fixated her frown now into a completely different almost seductive look. Her eyes were parted slightly, allowing her ginger colored hair to fall in her eyes.

This didn't help at all. Only moments before he had to distract himself from her graceful movements. Now she was trying to distract him again, only this time she was doing it on purpose. Whatever her motive was, he wasn't about to let her convince him to get into the water. But as she neared, his guard was falling, his security wall was failing,

"You know, Jack, if you truly do not want to swim, I won't make you."

"Really?" Unconvinced, obviously. She was now standing inches from him, her chest nearly touching his as she wrapped her forearms around his neck, having them rest on his shoulders,

"Of course, I mean, there are other things we could do." Her hand grazed his neck as she lifted her weary eyes to meet his. They were much closer than before, so close that he could feel her breaths against his lips,

"Like what."

"How many women have you kissed, Jack?" His eyebrows raised, but his eyelids remained motionless as he looked back into her gray eyes,

"A few." She cocked her head, watching her fingers caress his jaw line,

"Made love with?"

"I-" His eyebrows furrowed in confusion with her curious nature. In truth, there had been only one. But he would have never told her if she had allowed him to finish,

"Nevermind, it does not matter. It won't matter."

"For what?"

"For what we'll do." His pulse was uncontrollable. He was almost sure that she could feel his heart beating out of his chest at the distance they stood. It was nearly impossible to control his rapid breath, but he was able to mask it quite well, "But can I ask you one think beforehand?"

"Anything." He demanded in a voice he couldn't control. His hands found their way to her slender hips as hers were lifted to the back of his head. He fingered the soft fabric, caress Their faces neared, before she spoke. Without much thought, he closed his eyes awaiting the embrace,

"When did you become so gullible?" She snatched his hat before he could open his eyes, waving it as she ripped away from his grasp. _That Bitch._

"C'mon, give it back." His grabbing hands flailed to no avail as she squirmed from his grasp, laughing. Did she think this was funny? That was his Pa's hat. If she lost it, he might just have to kill her himself,

"You'll have to go catch it."

"What?" Right in front of him the damned woman had threw it straight into the lake. Thank god the waters were still, but still, it was an annoyance, " Damn it, that ain't funny!"

"Sure it is." She laughed at him as he treaded into the deeper waters, "See you're almost doing it!"

"Shut the hell up."

It was usually in his behavior to be somewhat polite and to compose himself, especially in front of a lady. But she had put him too far. The slowly moving waters the nearly picked his feet off from the lake's floor caused his heart to race in a worrisome fashion. Alice frowned. Not in a way of being upset, but as if to mock his insult,

"Now that is not a way to speak to a lady." She wagged her finger as if to scold him. He panted as he grabbed the black hat's rim in his palm. It was sopping wet, much to his displeasure. Under his breath he cursed at her antics. If this was her way of getting his attention in a joking fashion, she'd hate to see how she wanted to have fun,

"It isn't very ladylike to throw a man's belongings into a lake!"

"Well it got you in, didn't it."

"I have a right mind to-" Their eyes met again as she met him in the shallow ends of the water. He couldn't help but inspect how dry she was compared to his drenched lower half. To that he frowned slightly. She smiled sweetly with a voice to match,

"To what?"

"To do this." He grabbed her waist much to her surprise and threw her into the water besides him. She screamed in joy, laughing at her own disastrous state. This revenge tasted sweet, and came with an enjoyable after taste,

"You conniving little-" She swore. Jack laughed at her sopping wet self as he made his way onto the dry land. She blew a strand of soaked hair out of her eyes way. If that's how he wanted to play his game, she would play back ten times harder. She got a running start before jumping onto his back. This took him off guard as he fell back down into the shallow waters. The whole time she had screeched, although many would debate as to whether it was just her obnoxious form of a laugh.

Before she knew it she found herself turned around to face him, her knees wrapped around his waist. Obliviously, she continued to do so with her face near his. Together they both laughed, but it wasn't until they silenced that they noticed how close they had truly become. Close. It was a word Jack shied away from. Both physically and in emotion. Over the past month and a half they both had grown to the point of a teasing way of showing affection. It was how they liked it, and without admitting it aloud to each other they knew they never wanted it to change.

The way she looked at him possessed a chemistry she had never felt with any other man. It was remarkable to her, and she was sure he felt the same way. Was this what all her fabled stories were about? Is this feeling their inspiration. Then the crashing reality would come in and due time just to hand her a horrid ending. No, she wouldn't let it. This moment would last forever if she had anything to say about it.

His arms held her in place, allowing her to sit with her calves around his waste. She rested her head against his neck,

"Did you still want that kiss?" Her warmth could be felt against his chest. How he wanted to tell her the truth. How he wanted to tell her yes. He closed in his eyes in frustration,

"It wouldn't be right."

"Why not?" Silence. The heart clenching feeling in her chest was enough to remind her of his motive for reservation. And she hated it, "Oh."

The man sighed as he let her down. She ran her fingers through her hair as she pointed towards the horses with a nervous finger,

"We should probably get going." He wringed his hat dry, placing it snug on his head before responding,

"Right."


	9. Lesson Gone Awry

That day the sun shone bright through the deep blue sky. Fluffy pillows of white spread in thin layers to cover the never ending sea of blue. But even the warm sheets of evaporated water could not begin to hide it's glory. Through them, the sun lit up the Texas city into a clear and comfortable morning. The harsh gusts of wind were full of very light humidity, but still cool in their own right. It was normal for the average Samaritan to nearly choke on the hot moist air, but today was manageable. Almost cool. It was early September, the time of year children were heading back to school.

Her soft soled slippers made no sound as her feet padded across the wooden dock. She was shaded momentarily by the awning set up along the long path, but was soon greeted by the sun once more after reaching the square platform. To that she lifted her pale chin, closing her eyes to enjoy it's heat rays upon her rosy cheeks. Her caramel hair whipped past her shoulder in the wind. It begun to fall from it's tightly fascinated bun, so she took it out. Only then had she realized just how long her layers stretched. They followed the direction the air had chosen.

It was beautiful to her. The weather and the feeling she felt inside her chest. Something important should happen today, the feeling predicted. But if nothing would, that would be fine too. Simple as that, she had convinced herself to live from day to day. An easy thing to do when life seemed so blissful in a country town.

A small tug pulled at the corner of her lips at the tingling feeling she felt in her toes. She looked down at her slippers, soon removing them and tossing them off to the side. Luckily they had not fallen off the dock. She rolled her heels and stretched her legs. Inhaling deeply, she began to recall her dance. The weight of her whole body was so gracefully lifted onto such small toes, swaying with the classical music that played in her head. One hand lifted her skirt for her feet to move freely, but she was so lost in thought that she hardly caught the sound of the approaching pedestrian.

She quickly stopped, letting her feet fall flat into second position. The thudding sound stopped as her head seemed to turn one hundred and eighty degrees. There stood Jack, thumbs tucked into his belt. He appeared to be amused with a not-quite-smile fixated on his lips in a mocking fashion. She brushed the fallen hairs out of her face, giving an embarrassed smile in his direction as she turned to greet him.

"I didn't know you could dance." He nodded, tipping his hat as he did so,

"I see you got the note," She reached for her shoes, slipping them on as she spoke, "I thought you would be a little while longer." He shrugged, shifting his eyes over to the lake,

"You wanted to see me?"

"Ah yes, I uh," She stuttered, playing it off with some laughs of her own in between each filling sound, "Well it's stupid, really." She tucked her hair behind her ear, lifting up her dress to walk over to him,

"Go on."

He stared down at her with a blank expression on his face. She shied away, turning to look back to the lake. It's waters seemed darker, contrasting greatly with the bluer shade of the sky. Maybe that's how the town had gotten the name of Blackwater. Either way it served as a great distraction,

"I was reading one of the books Peter keeps in his shop. It was one I had read before, and remember absolutely adoring it."

"Really?"

"Mhm." She smiled up at him, "_The Virginian, _It was about a man who's travels bring him to Wyoming. It explains his adventures he has in the times of "Cowboys and Indians"."

"I didn't think you much of a reader, Ms. Thatcher. What does this book have to do with anything?"

"Anyways, then I got to thinking about my encounter with the thief just a few weeks ago. If you think about it, I had just had my own mini version of dealing with the west."

"Very, very small, I'm afraid."

"Oh is that true?"

"Yeah. I mean, I've seen bank robberies, murders, and shoot outs with Apache tribes. What I haven't seen myself, I've read about."

"Which is why I know you'd be the perfect guy to ask." She pointed a finger at him, "I want you to teach me how to shoot a gun." Jack laughed, looking up to avoid her convincing stare, "What?"

"A woman shooting a gun?"

"Annie Oakley did it!"

"Phoebe Mosey is a performer. Why would a pretty little girl like you want to shoot a gun anyways?"

"Defense... And I'm tired of being that "pretty little eastern girl". I could shoot a gun better than any man given the chance!"

The look he gave her seemed to question her confidence. He couldn't quite understand why her kind of person would have any interest or desire in the subject of guns and shooting. Even so, the desire resembled his from years ago. He remembered shoving his father aside whenever offered the chance to learn from a gunslinger himself, then reluctantly taking his advice. Every useful skill he had could be linked back to the teachings of his father, now that he thought about. Regret overwhelmed him, how he wished he wouldn't had taken advantage of the few moments he spent with John,

"Alright."

* * *

><p>"Like this?"<p>

"No. See, you're holding it wrong." Frustrated, Jack took the rifle from her hands, "Maybe we should try a revolver."

"No, no I can do it!"

"Most people carry them, and trust me they're easier to handle." Once turned, he found himself rolling his eyes. If you asked him a month ago he would have never assumed he would find himself teaching anyone how to use a gun, let alone a clueless girl.

Jack had taken her to Beecher's Hope for her lesson, a place where he had also taught himself. It was also the place where he kept most of the guns he left off hand. The ranch had almost seemed unrecognizable from the scene John had created after his homecoming just five years ago. It had been run down prior to his return, but with the little help of Uncle and extra hand of Jack he had nearly restored it to it's former glory when it had first been built. Almost. Not soon after he had his life sent down to hell in a hand basket under the watchful eye of Edgar Ross.

Over those five years Jack saw little point in trying. After his continuous failed effort combined with himself having to take care of his sick mother for three straight years alone, it became a lost cause. Two years after her passing it was pointless to him. With run down hinges and chipping paint, it was merely a skeleton of what it once was and still could be. But he didn't care. Most of the time he was off wandering aimlessly and hitching post at random cabins along his travels. Lately he had begun to stay close to Blackwater, although he refused to admit it was because he had gained new acquaintance with the uppity Thatcher girl,

"Here, this is one of the most powerful revolvers there are. My Pa used it himself." From his holster he tossed the cold silver Schofield revolver. She frantically flailed her arms to catch it, causing the man to hold his palms forward in caution, "Careful, it's loaded." She glared up at him. Why would he throw it then?

He showed her how to wrap her hands around it's grip, gently pressing her index finger to it's trigger. Lifting her hands to be straight out in front of her, he shot the gun for her. It sounded a loud ring as it formed a dented hole in the can he had set up for her to hit. She gasped, ripping from his arms to look back at him with wide eyes. A huge grin was present on her face, she planted her hand on her chest,

"Oh my Lord..." She laughed, "My heart is pounding like a drum. I-I've never felt such a rush!"

"Good, now try to hit the other cans I set up on those rocks."

Sure enough where the man pointed there were tin and aluminum cans balanced on various sized boulders in the distance. Alice took aim several times, to which he had to correct her posture and hand position. Sure enough she had it down pat. She fired the first bullet, and surprisingly it hit,

"You're a natural." He couldn't help but feel a bit of sinful envy grow in the pit of his heart. He quickly shoved it away, but still he wondered how a woman could learn so fast when it took him months of practice to hit his first target with ease,

"What did I tell you, Mister Marston?" He pressed his palm to the roof of his hat, making sure it was snug as could be,

"Wanna see a master work his magic?"

She gave him an 'oh-please' look, handing him the revolver limply. As if to earn a bragging right, he dramatically took his stance. He aimed the tiny barrel at one of the far off targets. Within a matter of seconds, he had taken out all four of the cans without an extra bullet. He looked back for approval from the young maiden. All he received was a shove to the shoulder,

"Well wouldn't you know it, we have ourselves an old-fashioned gunslinger!"

"Learned that from my, Pa."

"Who, the rancher?" He was about to tell a lie. She could tell by the way his pupils dialated, and the way his head shifted to his left side,

"Yeah."

The seventeen year old girl gave a cocky smile. She felt so clever about her finding. Her eyebrows were raised and her eyes slightly closed. Confidence was thick in what she was about to say,

"You don't look like much of a rancher." She dropped the pistol, turning to walk towards the rickety fence near the barn. Jack cocked an eyebrow at her behavior, walking over to pick up the gun. He holstered it, following intently,

"I don't?"

"Nope. You look like more of the... gunslinger type." She leaned against the fence, still shining him the cocky look. It confused the man, but he had some form of explanation up his sleeve,

"Can't I be both?" She shrugged, lightly tipping her head in response.

It wasn't a complete lie. John truly did aspire to be a rancher for his family. It sure didn't suit him or Jack for that matter, but he tried. The honest truth was that he had learned his skills from a true bred Cowboy himself. He wasn't sure if that would thrill Alice or whether she would disapprove, so he kept it quiet.

A cracking noise came from the rotting wood. As soon as she moved to check what had happened, the fence collapsed from under her. Jack reached out a hand to keep her from falling, she took it clumsily. Swiftly he pulled her closer to him while she regained her balance. It came as a shock to her, she touched her chest to feel her fast paced heart. Soon she found herself nearly nose to nose with the Marston boy. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat as he stepped away. Both looked in the opposite direction to avoid each others gaze,

"So, um." After a moment of awkward silence, she held out a hand to motion towards the broken fence and eventually the whole farm, "This place really is a piece of junk." A laugh escaped her lips as he scratched behind his neck,

"It is ain't it."

"Any reason you haven't managed it?"

"Uh." He let his left palm fall to his side, adjusting his black hat with his right hand, "Well after Pa was sh- ah I mean died, I had to keep up with Ma who got real sick soon after. I never found the time. The poachers took all the cattle, and coyotes ate the chicken. Wasn't much I could do."

"Sounds like you needed some help."

"It ain't exactly a one man job."

"Maybe you should start it up again! Fix up these buildings until they look new and you're pretty much there!" Jack laughed, stopping to lean an arm against the remains of the fence. When he caught what he was doing, he stood back up to brush himself off,

"Cattle don't just fall from the sky, Miss Thatcher. It's really expensive?"

"Expensive?"

"I believe that's what I said." She shifted her gaze to the deep blue sky, inspecting the fluffy clouds. They were an innocent and soothing thought. A pure beauty to be seen.

Expense was something she had never really considered in her life. Growing up in a wealthy family is something no man could control, neither having the unfortunate life of a beggar. There were blessings and curses with each life, becoming ignorant and dumb was a consequence of spoiled behavior. She had thought about it before, why she deserved the life given to her by god. Also whether or not it was right for her family to hoard it all when others would still be worrying about getting by. It seemed selfish that she had the luxury of tossing dollars around when people like the Marston boy and many other country folk were wondering when and in what form their paycheck would come,

"Peter and I could lend you some money." He shook his hand at her, turning his head away in shame,

"I could never take money from someone who's just struggling to get by."

"Jack, I come from a... wealthy family. We have the money to spare." His eyes were then fixated on her with a blank expression,

"Well who would help me in this wonderful dream of yours?" A smile came to her lips as she stood up straight. Her chin was lifted and her eyes planted on his blank expression,

"I would." To that he laughed, giving her a 'really?' look,

"Really?" He spoke what he meant,

"Yes indeed. I could move down to Blackwater itself and help you raise your precious cattle and chickens. You said it yourself, it is not in fact a one man job."

"Man."

"Face it, Jack. You need a woman in your life."

His expression shifted to a mix of confusion and anger. Alice wondered if what she had said came out wrong, but the more she thought about it, even if he had taken it the wrong way she still would have meant it. It was time to stop lying to herself. She had grown to care for the Marston boy. She had grown to care for Jack and Jack alone.

Jack on the other hand stood dumbfounded in her words. What exactly had she meant? If she meant what he thought, it would put him into a state of shock. If she had fallen for him, it would be exactly the opposite of what he had wanted all along. What was worse was that he did not want to seize contact with her, but at this point he would have no choice,

"What?" She froze. Half of her wanted to step closer and the other wished to run screaming into the hills. Had she really admitted her feelings. She wasn't even sure of them and here she was confronting them head on,

"I, um."

"Alice, what did you mean." Her mind went blank, her lips pursed as if she wanted to explain herself but couldn't. A moment of silence passed and still no response. Jack got up and started away in frustration,

"No Jack, You're taking it the wrong way!" She ran up to him, tugging on his tan coat in her plead to make him stop,

"Then what in Sam's hell did you mean!" He turned, and to her dismay, was nearly screaming in her face,

"I-I don't know." The distress evident on her face was enough to convince him to calm his attitude. He exhaled deeply through his nose before starting with a firm voice,

"You are getting married when you leave in two weeks and five days." He had memorized the date? Her heart dropped, and she wasn't sure why, "You conversing with me has put that all at stake."

"No Jack it hasn't!" He paused to breath, pointing a stern finger at her teary eyes, "Didn't that day at the lake mean anything to you?"

By the way he closed his eyes she knew she had struck a soft spot. He inhaled deeply, trying to suppress the memory of their sole intimate encounter. When it struck it struck hard. His head bobbed, but his atmosphere remained that of anger and stern pain,

"I just wanted to make you happy."

"Leave, Alice. I want you to leave and to stop trying to speak with me. When you're finally gone and married to that man who will give you a better future... then I will be happy."

"Jack!"

"Leave." Tears began to stream down her face. Disgusted, he turned away and started towards the house, leaving Alice in shambles by the barn.


	10. Final Goodbyes

It was an odd feeling. A mix of apathy and numbness. The kind of feeling where every small touch sends a surge of a thousand needles through one's nerves. But not a physical touch, the touch of words and their hidden meanings. The touch of dagger like eyes tearing him to shreds with a simple double take. It was something he had grown used to, being unkempt and all. He saw little reason to try. In a time of vulnerability, it was hard to admit that every judgment was a potentially fatal blow to his dignity.

He refused to admit it, however. From first glance he seemed in perfect normality. It was the a composure that was envied. Life had returned to as it always had been after his mother had died. A hollow existence with nothing to live for. Living day to day, wondering what each day would bring. Wondering if maybe he would have the pleasure of ending the brutal cycle.

Caring even less than before his encounter with the eastern girl, he dressed without his beige jacket. He had removed his red bandana, and done away with his rifle. Dealing with outlaws was an inherited habit he sought to end. Even his father had frowned upon doing it himself, he saw little point in doing it himself. One thing he kept was his revolver, still holstered in his belt. All he had were the bullets in his gun and the thin button up cotton shirt on his back.

Maybe he would resort to a life of drinking his troubles away, turn into his own form of Uncle. He never admired the man, but his dreams of becoming a writer seemed so far off. Everything he used to see worth fighting for was fated to become a faded dream. His horse did not speed into town as it once had. The trot he forced was paced along the dirt road.

The last time he felt this low was the morning he woke to find his own mother's lifeless body laid on his father's double bed. Not many had the displeasure in life of self-burying their own kin, even those who did usually had some loved ones to fall back on. Not him, at least he had no hope anymore. His nostrils flared as he breathed in the muggy atmosphere.

He fondled the leather stern in his palm as he neared Blackwater. The shadow of the church's steeple stretched to the east as the golden star neared the western horizon. It would be dark soon by the looks of it. He kicked his Standardbred into a faster walk.

Something unexpected caught his attention however, after tipping his hat to a passing pedestrian. Turning his neutral eyes to a sight that stopped his heart in the distance. The smaller teenaged girl dressed in a floppy expensive hat. It was as if the southern style she had grown into over the course of the two months had bled out overnight. She was entering the black gates surrounding the church yard. On a Thursday evening? Curiosity instantly began to bounce inside his head hollow with thought. Following her could end in disaster if he was caught, but maybe he could talk some sense into her. If she would give him a moment to explain.

He dismounted his steed outside the gates, moving slowly to stay a distance behind her as she opened the doors to the church. The fact that people made a job out of this, stalking individuals, humored him. Usually those kind of people had shady purposes. Soon enough was able to slip through the wooden doors with minimal sound only minutes after her. He stepped with the soft soled feet of a redskin, stopping in the back of the chapel. Breathing out in relief, he laid a hand on the pew in front of him.

The church was empty, all but the girl he suspected to be Alice. It was still decorated the way he had remembered, though, from the many years ago he made his one and only visit. It's slender window panes stretched from the foot of each pew to the shackled rooftops. A single traditional stain glassed circular decoration allowed the grace of the lord's rays to shine through in the front wall. But at the moment the elaborate colors were not his distraction, but the sobs that began to ring out from the lungs of the Thatcher girl.

Was she crying? It shocked him that he was taken off guard, she did storm off pretty upset after their last encounter. He blamed his clueless mind on being a man. A throbbing sensation started in his chest, a strange feeling. It was as if a string hand had begun to strangle his heart. How could he feel guilty? That girl had gotten him involved in something he never wanted to be a part of, feelings. There was a reason he preferred to stay numb.

He listened intently to the girl's voice. She must have been praying out loud, for she had begun to speak to herself. At least he assumed so, because there was no one else in the room that she knew of,

"Dear Lord, I cannot take this another day." Another sob escaped her lips. She knealed in the space between pews, crossing her cold slender fingers together to pray, "This agony. This dreading of returning home." a pathetic chuckle masked her tears. She did not wipe them away. No one was here to see her, and she had no one to impress but God, "It's quite funny how just two months ago I dreaded arriving here, and now I do not wish to leave."

"Dear Lord, if it is in your plan I will marry Clark. For through your will I will gain the strength. I just wish there was another way. That maybe I could choose my own fate."

Stupid girl. Of course you could choose your own fate. But then again, from the way she had explained it the first time they had met, maybe she was not. Her parent's had her trapped, trapped between submission and escape. On one hand she could follow their hopes for her and become the daughter they wanted. On the other hand, she could become her own person. An idea probably all but too sweet for her. She had tried, and failed. Like a bird in a cage she was stuck once more. Maybe if someone, anyone could encourage her to just open her gates, she could be free. To be free to decide her own fate,

"Forgive me, Lord. For my absurdity. It was my complete fault in sinful thoughts of the Marston boy."

Sinful thoughts? Damn. Who'd have thought that merely listening bring such a pain to his chest. This whole time he had repressed any such feelings for her. For two reasons. One, that she was already due to be wed. Against her will or not, she was not to be thought of in that way. And two, he couldn't afford heartbreak.

"I've grown to care for this man. I know that many do not understand, do not care to accept him. I'd like to think I've seen past his exterior. He is kind and understanding, and-" She paused, holding back her pleading sobs. They had calmed for the most part, but it was still evident in her convincing tone that she was tortured in thought, "He's been through so much. I've begun to hate myself for potentially adding to his burden."

"Dear Lord, grant me the strength. The strength to please my mother and father, and to relieve this man of my pesterance. I will need it to get through this life I will begin with Clark. Without your strength... I might very well kill myself."

"You wouldn't do it." Her whole body convulsed, jumping to turn faster than humanly possible. Her face displayed a surprised horror in his presence. It was impossible to tell whether it was from mere shock or embarrassment in him hearing her personal prayers, " I've considered it myself, tried a couple times." Jack started down the isle towards the girl, keeping his eyes on the wooden floorboards. Her mouth fell open in confusion, her eyes still frozen in shock, " It takes will. Will and strength you don't care to have."

"H-how. W-when did you...?"

"I heard enough." He shinned a pained smile to her, to which she attempted to hide her pink cheeks. She shifted from her kneeling position to sit sideways on the pew, her eyes falling to the ground avoiding his gaze,

"I thought you wanted me to stay away from you?" His smile faded at the comment,

"You know why, Alice."

"Then why are you here. Why did you follow me!" Anger filled her accusation as she shot her fury filled eyes up at the standing man. He sighed, taking a seat in the pew behind her,

"Some things were left unsaid. I don't think you fully understand my reasoning." Her eyes softened, but a hardness was still evident in her tone,

"If you heard me earlier, I know full well that I need to return home. I don't need your, your hillbilly advice!" Once again she had convinced herself to be upset. She crossed her arms, turning her eyes back to the ground in anger. This whole encounter had turned into a flurry of emotions for her. Jack merely laughed at her mood swings, it amused him. Shaking his head, he continued,

"Sounds like it when you start talking suicide." She mumbled, frustrated in defeat,

"Say what you need to. I'll listen to as much as I care to." He rolled his eyes at her, sighing as he bobbed his head. Leaning over, he began to rub his palms together as he tried to think of what to say,

"I'm gonna be completely honest. When I first met you, I thought you were a whiny little spoiled teenage girl. Even after listening to your story, my opinion still didn't change much. Sacrifices have to be made, and unfortunately you being the daughter of a rich man, this is one of those sacrifices."

"But after spending some time with you, I-... I can't lie. I began to care about you, Alice. I really did. Despite the fact that I knew you were engaged and I told myself I'd never fall for a women, you made me." Why did these words feel so sour against his tongue. Was it the fact that they were oddly convincing to him that these were merely fantasies at were about to end? Through it all, Alice found herself with a broken half smile at his admitting, "But that means nothing now. It never it."

"Of course it does, Jack. Because I feel the same way!" She turned in her position to face him, leaning closer to look him in the eye, "We can make it work."

"Stop talkin' like that. You sounded so convinced just a minute ago."

"Not after what you've said."

"Alice, listen to me, alright? You had the right idea before. Going back to New York is your best bet for a happy future, your parents know that."

"My parents-" She stood on her knees, wringing her hands on the back of the wooden pew frantically. Jack cut her off, however, finally lifting his head to convince her in a very monotone yet convincing voice. It sounded almost pained, but convincing none the less,

"Parents have a way of knowing what's best for their child. In my case, it just took them a little while to figure that out." He stood, excusing himself from the bench like structure. Alice panicked, standing also. He held out a hand, signaling her to stay as he took a step backwards toward the door,

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing you have to concern yourself with."

"Jack!" She pleaded with concern,

"They're waiting for you back east, don't disappoint them." At that, he turned to make a hasty exit. Leaving Alice alone in the chapel once more.


	11. Memories

"My suitcases feel so much lighter than when I arrived, are you sure I have not left anything?"

"Positive. You just got stronger." His chuckles sounded through his breath, lugging Alice's final suitcase onto the station platform.

When she turned to her beloved cousin, she gave him a sympathetic smile in thanks for his continuous chivalry he had shown her throughout her stay. It seemed like just yesterday she had arrived with her innocent bright eyes ready for the rude awakening of the long tasks Peter had in store for her.

It was true that the work he gave her was tedious. Much of the time she spent behind the counter, reading a book with her buffeting fan lifting her hair into her eyes. She'd struggle to clear her reading space, but it was constantly littered with the messiness Peter's organization skills. One thing she brought to his attention was the need to place things in their appropriate spot. This often left him in less of a stressed state as he scurried around the back shelves in search of extra rounds for the men of wilderness who found their way into his shop.

All those long hours she spent in his company. A memory she would forever keep was his lessons of how to use the cash register. How she made him curse in fury at her own incompetence to make the right payment. It was true that she had been schooled, but math was not her strong suit. She remembered the look of pure satisfaction on his face when she finally had understood. His embrace. Oh how quickly she had grown to know and love her cousin. Both for his hospitality and patience,

"Oh Peter, I will miss you beyond measures comparable."

"There's no need to impress me with such big words, Alice, your help is always appreciated. No matter the work it took to make you useful." He winked, causing her to blush in embarrassment,

"Hopefully Father will let me return in the near future, although I have a reasonable thought to assume he would have better ideas."

"I'd only doubt it in the case of his worry about the Marston boy." She cocked an eyebrow in confusion,

"How would he know about him?"

"I hadta tell him, Alice. He had a right to know about all that's gone on down here."

For a moment she considered bursting out in utter anger. To curse him, and wish nothing but bad upon him for revealing her secretive deeds to her father. Any hope she knew was now crushed in it's spot. But she called upon her womanly nature to bottle up such frustration and accept the reality,

"I suppose you are right."

She leaned in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his strong tourso. She could never quite understand how a man who stood in a store all day could become so muscular. Until she figured that lifting all those crates of supplies would take his effect on him,

"Try not to overload yourself in my absence, you're no longer going to have someone to pick you up and brush you off."

"Whatever you say, Sweetheart." He grinned his familiar bright smile at her. It brought a glimmer of hope to her heart as it always had. She rustled his caramel colored hair, lightly jumping to mess it up when the sound of the train's whistle in the distance caught her off guard. His expression fell into a serious demeanor as he searched for the approaching engine, "I guess this is your ride home." She groaned. _Home._ Apparently she must have said it outload, for it sparked a bit of confusion in Peter, "C'mon it ain't that bad. You're going back to being spoiled."

"Is that really what I want?" He smiled at her, placing his strong hand on her delicate petite shoulder,

"It's what a million girls would die for."

Die for a life of bliss? Bliss only comes to those who are ignorant, and that was one thing she refused to be. She felt the need to give him an assuring forced smile before directing him to help her board the train. Their goodbye was short lived, for they had already said their departing words. Reluctantly standing at the platform, she waved him off. It was an unimaginable feeling of unrest and hurt. Like the remembrance that you might have just forgot something. It lurked in her stomach and refused to leave throughout her pleads to her mind.

As the train rolled away, the engineer politely asked her to take her seat. She complied, passing the many rows of two person benches that lined the isle. She took an empty seat in the back, quickly positioning herself to lean against the cool glass window. All she wanted to do now was sleep. To find her way into a world where she could leave her anxiety that coursed through her veins at the thought of returning. She closed her eyes to breath slowly. So slowly and carefully she fell victim to her own childish imagination. To her own memories, for it was the only thing she had left to hold onto.

* * *

><p>The feeling of an all knowing source was one of comfort indefinitely. The guidance it offered, it is something or someone to relinquish all of one's trust and hope to. She felt that leadership in the all knowing hand of her mother. The mother who's long dainty fingers held that of her soft tiny palm in her own.<p>

Together she led them down a long and plain corridor with papered walls and creaking floorboards. Doors were evenly spaced on each side of the halls, offering likely the same amount of space in each room that they led into. It felt so intimidating to her young soul, the ceilings so tall and the hallways so wide. She pulled her mother's hand closer to her checkered chest, clutching at the ends of lace on her skirt.

She remembered the soft silk socks she wore up to her ankles with her shining black flats. Her curly hair so thin and long held back from her face with pins of sorts. Those clonky shoes caused her to stumble over her feet more times than she could remember. Although skinned knees were expected from a child, she was not permitted that experience. Luckily she had the brace from falling, her mother's hand that rushed her along the long path ahead of them. Every look she received was one of admiration in her dolled up state. Such childish innocence was admirable indeed.

Finally they came to the last door on the end of the hall. It must had been the largest, for when they opened the double doors they were greeted with the stares of close to fifty men dressed in black suits. Some bald and some with dark hair like her fathers, they all seemed the same to her, "Daddy's associates." was what she was taught, although she called them his friends too. None seemed puzzled to see her or disturbed in the least. They all smiled like all the other men in the office building. At the end of the long table she could spot her shorter father. What he lacked in size he made up for in authority,

"Papa!" She cried in delight as she took off behind the backs of the many men. She remembered jumping into his wide open arms, burying her face into his shirt that smelled of strong cologne. He'd tap her on her round button nose that she had inherited from him.

Her mother would join him at the end of the table in her own time, and that would be one of the few times she would ever see her mother smile, when she looked down to her husband on those visits. That's what she was raised to believe love was, those rare but meaningful exchanges of communication. Never had she seen them kiss or say love, yet they claimed to be in love. Was it truly? Even so, it felt like it to her. How she pined for those days, they were some of her fondest memories, and ones she would never forget.


	12. Emanicpation

The following weeks came cold and not without restraint. It was late October, 1916. With the coming winter days chilled with icy winds in the north eastern state. It was not warm, it was not particularly cold, but for the strong willed New Yorker it was manageable. Nothing a thick pea coat couldn't fix.

For America, this was a time of peace. For the world, this was a time of war. As the Great War raged on America struggled to keep their right foot out of the action to the best of their ability. But still, feelings grew sore. The immigrants in the modern day "Big Apple" felt an unrest for their relatives sacrificing so much over the Atlantic. Day by day they flooded in, increasing it's size to the largest metropolitan area in the whole country.

There was one thing the warmth of a newly tailored jacket could not cure in this cold city. Ever since her return nearly a month ago Alice had begun to feel an enormous weight on her heart. Depression most likely. She played the part of Clark's fiance, and she had attended multiple engagement parties much to his chagrin. When not attending outings with her fiance, she often would find herself surrounded by complete silence in her room.

The wedding had been postponed until mid November, despite the ensured snow due at that time. Charlotte had already arranged such an elaborate celebration. The ceremony was to be held at St. Paul's Chapel, with only the most esteemed people to attend. Wealthy associates of her father, her family members deemed worthy, and even the young and rather dashing Mayor Mitchel. Her mother always loved to make a point on how much of a looker he was, "To be young and single again." she would rage. But one thing that hurt Alice the most was the news that Peter was unable to attend. Whether it was a lie from her mother or an honest incapability was irrelevant, it only worsened her mental state.

To make matters worse, Clark had already begun to display controlling and an abusive tendency. It started out small, that Alice was not to wander into the Harlem regions of the city. The reasoning was that the area was filled with, "Trouble making Negros". It was fair enough to her, until he began to limit her visits with Janet. It had gotten to the point where she had not seen her beloved friend in close to two weeks, while she had grown used to her company every day for practice.

Still, the hours grew shorter and closer to the day where she would sell her soul. The anxiety in her heart was agonizing as it caused an unresolved inconsistency to it's own beat. Often times she'd find herself nervously tapping her slender fingers against her porcelain skin too keep her sanity. Her chest pounded hard that day. She and her mother had taken the liberty of having a day out to see the town, no matter how upset it made her. They had seen a Broadway show that night. How Alice used to dream of staring in one. Some of her earliest teenage memories were of herself memorizing parts of famous Shakespearean plays in the bathroom mirror. Now it was a faded memory that laid untouched in her mind as she sat patiently in the taxi next to her mother, who seemed more irritable than normal,

"Look at this Negro scum. They litter the streets like apes... I almost cannot see them in the darkness."

"Mother!"

"Alice." She spoke with a stern voice, "You will not raise your tone at me." Her eyes narrowed with her command.

It was normal for Charlotte to make comments like these. It made her wonder why, with her blatant racism, she remained in a city quickly filling itself to the brim of the kind she dreaded. But Alice was forced to bite her tongue whenever a thought of doubting her mother crossed her mind. Charlotte often called it breaking her in for her life of submission to her husband. For the rest of her life, Clark would always be right, he would always provide, and she would blindly follow him in his life's journey as he commanded. It sickened her.

But she preferred not to think of it. Although it was hard not to, whenever she could she found herself letting her mind wander. Sometimes back to the days when her dreams ran rampant and she believed the idea that she could live out any dream she had. A lot of the time her head lingered back to the evenings she spent with Janet in her elementary years. She actually used to be quite a trouble maker, enough of one to be pulled out by her parents and home schooled by a tutor,

"Mother, do you remember that day the Police Officer brought me home?" Her mother peered,

"I do recall it had to do with your act of truancy?"

"Yes." Alice laughed, " Janet and I decided to treat ourselves to lunch that day and I guess our superiors thought otherwise." She remembered the exact shade of red her mother's eyes turned, "I do remember how angry you got when you saw us walkin' up them stairs with shame on our face..."

"Excuse me?"

"What?"

"I believe you just let your inner southern show... don't let it happen again."

Alice turned herself to the window opening, directing her gaze at the shadows of buildings that passed by. It was difficult to much of anything in the dark, the cabs probably wouldn't be running much longer, "I spoke with Clark today."

"Don't you always? If I did not know any better I would think you two were lovers." Charlotte let out a sinister sort of chuckle, one laced with resentment towards her daughter's lack of co-operation,

"I honestly cannot find any reason for you to be anything but thrilled."

"Thrilled in what? Marrying that controlling gentleman? I can think of a few."

"He will make a fine suitor and a very reliable provider for you. If you would only open your heart, then maybe you would realize this."

"I beg to differ. In my own opinion, if I might be allowed one, I would honor any man but him."

"And who might you have in mind?" Alice's eyes widened for a moment, but she quickly masked it as she leaned against the metal door. She pursed her dainty lips to release a sigh, "That Texan boy?"

It took all her strength to play it off. To keep her head from nearly turning one hundred and eighty degrees in pure shock. Instead she kept her eyes nearly closed as she looked over at her mother,

"I made no specifics. In fact, I have no idea what you are getting at."

"Don't you play stupid with me, Alice. Your father knows everything. Why must you be so stubborn?" She glared,

"What do you mean?" Charlotte tsked, shifting her eyes to her daughter. She couldn't help but shutter at her own mother's glare. It felt wrong to be so afraid of the woman who should care most about you,

"From Peter's letter, we were told that you had some form of intimate encounter with this degenerate?"

"That is a lie."

"I won't have you sneaking around like this. Especially some offspring of a criminal and his whore."

"What are you talking about?" By the time she noticed her voice had been raised it was too late, "Mother you are making absolutely no sense."

"Your father did a background check on his legal files. Birthdates, places he had lived, relatives, from what he found, well, let us just say that it was not very pretty. Murders they are, robbing nearly fifty banks." She stated, "You are forbidden to even think about that boy."

Alice turned away from her mother in silence to face the door. This conversation had caused her stomach to churn, aching just another organ in her body. She wished she had avoided the topic all together, but ever since her return it was the only thing her mother would speak about. Beforehand she had nary a word to say, now it was all about every man her daughter passed on the street. Everything from unfaithfulness to envy was what she was accused of. All she wished for was just a moment of silence. For that to happen, she must break,

"Yes, mother."

* * *

><p>The house was dimly lit by an overhead light as they entered it's shelter. After closing the large wooden door, Alice unbuttoned her coat to hang on it's wooden peg by the door. Her heels clacked against the wooden floor as she proceeded deeper into the entry way. For now, she only wanted to go sit in the darkness of her room. A couple of loud voices provoked her curiosity, however, as she descended from the few steps she had already climbed to the upper floor.<p>

Around the corner she saw that the office was still lit with visible light through two cracked doors. She decided to make her way over to see who was accompanying her father. When she peeked through the crevice, she saw two men in suits approaching. Quickly backing away, her father saw her figure in the light that shone onto her,

"Why, sweetheart, I'm sorry I didn't see you there. Welcome home."

"Thank you, father." Her eyes shifted to the man who stood next to him, nearly towering over him. It was Clark. He shone a smile down at her that seemed ever so innocent. If she hadn't known any better she would doubt every second anyone who told her he was to become a pompous jerk. But he was not that bad in all honestly. Every man had their faults, and his controlling aspect was his vice. He would be a good husband. As always, she masked her displeasure in his presence, "Clark, what are you doing here?" She questioned politely with her warm smile on her lips. He tipped his hat that he had just placed on his head,

"Your father had some things he needed to speak with me for. Nothing to worry about."

"Well, I'm glad you could stop by. It truly has felt like too long since last we saw each other." He chuckled, his own cheeks turning a different shade in the glow of the room's emitting light,

"It has hasn't it." He lifted a hand to her cheek, "Maybe I could treat you to dinner tomorrow evening. Only the finest this island has to offer for my sweet flower." _Must he compare me to a plant? _She thought,

"That sounds quite nice. But unfortunately Janet and I had planned an evening together. I have not seen her since my return. Maybe the day after?" The displeasure on his face was evident. He battled hard not to convince her otherwise like his controlling self told him to. Surprisingly, he won,

"Of course, of course..." He whispered to himself. She couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy at his words. He lifted his wrist to inspect his watch in the little light there was. His eyes widened in surprise, "It is getting rather late. I best be returning home." He placed a kiss on her cheek. She could practically feel her father's stares of approval in the the side of her head,

"I'll see you out." She turned to her father, now leading Clark away from her.

She watched from a distance as they neared the foyer in a speculative way. She watched him put on his coat, his father open the door for him. Her curiosity allowed for her head to turn towards the open doors of the office. Only on occasion had she entered the room. Often times her father was too busy banking and up to his own line of work to allow any disturbances. It couldn't hurt for her to let herself in just this once... plus she wished to know what they were doing in there.

When he wasn't looking, she slipped through the light wooden doors into the inviting office. The number of books on anything from banks to gambling that filled the shelves never ceased to amaze her. These shelves also housed some of her favorite childhood books of hers. When not dancing or taking acting lessons she often enjoyed the quite serenity of her room as she read a book her grandmother had bought her. Her favorite being _The Prince and the Pauper _by the famous American writer, Mark Twain.

But something that hadn't been so familiar to her was the scattering of papers across her father's desk that were not bank notes. It intrigued her to look closer. She picked up one piece of paper with cursive writing on it, holding it under a table lamp as to read the horrible penmanship. It gave a specific description of a certain man. He was tall, 6ft, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. Born in 1895, that would make him about twenty one this year. _Who was this man? _It wasn't until her fingers traced the ink letters of his birthplace that she realized that this man's information was strikingly similar to the kind given to her by Jack. Sure enough it was his name.

Name, Jack Marston. Birth date and place, -. Son of John and Abigail. Low and behold the files of both his parents laid there too. John Marston, born in 1872 on a ship voyage from Scotland to the Americas. Father, Tavish. Mother, unknown. The rest of the file gave an in depth summary of the names of known murders committed by the man. The number nearly made her heart stop. She wanted to cry, nearly two hundred innocent people _known. _

Alice collected all of the papers into one file, crumpling some in the process. Her movements were anything but steady in her anger as she quickly threw open the window with one hand. The autumn winds soon gusted away each of the pieces of parchment, carrying them far away from the glass window pane. Angrily, she slammed the window shut and started towards the door. But before she reached it, her father arrived through it's opening,

"Oh, sweetheart...What are you doing still up?" She glared, pointing towards the desk,

"What was all of this" A crumpled remain of his files remained. She grabbed for it to shove in his face,

"I don't know what you're..."

"Please, father. I know that you and Clark were looking at the southern boy's files. All I wish to know is why!"

"Your mother and I won't have you fooling around with some boy up to no good. Your fiance just wanted to look out for you."

"Well I think it is none of your business." She threw the paper to the ground, heading towards the door. Before leaving, she turned to face him, "I have severed all ties with him already, so there is no need to stalk my every move."

"Alice!" He called out after her, but by the time he reached the door she had already started up the large staircase.

She could hardly stop the tears from streaming down her face. The idea of the murders still was fresh in her mind. How could such a chivalrous man be related to these burdens on society? These monsters? It almost made her glad to see him gone... almost. Her hand reached for the silver knob, shoving by her African maid,

"Now, child, what's gots' yew down?"

"Nothing."

"Child!" She slammed the door before she could enter it, "Child, I gots some of em fresh towels, nows yous bettah let me in!" The woman pounded her tight fist against the wooden door, "Alice."

"Lay them outside the door, Eliza." She huffed. Frustrated, she plopped the linens on the ground beside the door. It was unlike Alice to lock her out. Many times before she was able to console in her when her mother offered no sympathy. She was like a second mother to her, which drove her to become persistent,

"Alice, Honey, yew knows ah'is always he-uh tuh talk, right?" Silence followed, causing the woman to sigh. It was obvious that talking would do her no good. As she just about gave up, the door had finally opened. When she turned to see the red eyes of her almost-daughter, she couldn't help but notice the half smile on her lips,

"I'm not quite sure how mother let's you speak like that in our home."

"Child, I run this place Without me yew guys'd have nuthin."

She hated the tears. Weakness was the one quality she hated most in herself. It was true, that she possessed a sensitive and humane side, but that's what made the discovery all the more disturbing for her. Having been sheltered from the sinful truth of the world, it made the reality that much more shocking.

She fondled the brass knob in her hand, contemplating on if she should open it,

"Hows about yews open dat there door now?"

"Eliza..." She slowly pulled the wooden door open, allowing herself to peep her head from the small crevice, "You must promise not to tell mother or father."

"Now, why would ah do uh thing like dat?" She shrugged, turning away to allow the darker woman to enter the large room,

"Maybe you could be conspiring against me?"

"Whut ahm not sures about is hows yew think ah'd tell dat woman anythang."

Alice collapsed onto the queen sized bed, nuzzling her face into her goose feathered pillow. It felt so tender against her soft cheeks, she couldn't help but crawl up into the fetal position. Meanwhile, Eliza plopped her towels on her dark wooded dresser. At the sight of the child on the bed, she couldn't help but place her hands on her hips in disgust,

"Whut the hells is wrong wit you?" Alice lifted her head from the pillow,

"I thought you were on my side?"  
>"Ah am." She harshly pulled the covers from under her, tucking them in on the side, "Ah just don't has a clue why yous actin so pathetic." She sat up straight with her legs folded indian style. She wouldn't admit that she agreed, it was how she displayed her stubbornness,<p>

"I am _not_ pathetic!"

"Quit your cryin!" When her fingertips touched her face a wetness soaked them. It had begun to come so naturally now that she could hardly notice the tears rolling down her cheeks. Embarrassed, she rubbed her eyes on her forearm,

"Oh damn these tears! They'll be the end of me!" Her teeth clenched, "I am sorry, Eliza." She could feel her dark beady eyes nearly impaling the side of her head as she came to sit next to her,

"Yew hasn't been right since yews got home. What happened down in Texas?" Her voice was soft, her eyes were wilting at the sight of the pain in Alice's eyes. She had raised her from a young child, and it was almost as if she were her own,

"Nothing happened, Eliza. Please believe me." She stood and walked to the door, crossing her arms in frustration. The harshness in her voice was evident even more so with the fact that she refused to make eye contact. Eliza stood as well, making her way towards the door,

"Alls I know is dat yew ain't lookin in that boys eyes the same way you aughta be for uh bride, dat way yew used to." Alice motioned towards the door, looking to her in pure shock,

"I never looked at him with any kind of love."

"Sweetheart, yur marryin 'im. If yew ain't in love, whatcha suppose yew gonna do 'bout this heur situation?"

Her eyes drifted to the floor to her left. They were partly open, not exactly examining her surroundings but rather deep in thought. The honest truth was that she had no clue what to do about the situation with no idea how she could avoid the situation. And yet, she couldn't understand why, whenever the thought of escaping came up, Jack always came to mind.

She clenched her fists, throwing both of them from their crossed position to her hips in anger,

"Well, I can tell you right now that I am not marrying him." Her voice was calm and slightly less louder than expected from her disposition. Eliza neared her, placing a loving hand on her shoulder,

"Good luck emancipatin yurselves from dem overbearin parents of yurs."

It was decided then. Like a slave held in chains, she had succumbed to her parents will. She had been born into it like so many, so much like the blacks of the era before hers. To be free, she'd be forced to break those chains. To travel down the path blazed by so many before. Rebel against the one's who make her suffer. Jack became her Ohio River, the bridge to her freedom. To receive the freedom she must claim back herself. Regain her wings to escape her slavery and to return to her promised land.


	13. Into the Sunset

"Alice!" The puny girl threw herself into a tender hug around the neck of her beloved friend, "Oh, Alice, it's been forever!"

"Two weeks, Janet." She corrected with a smile. Either way, it had felt like a lifetime to the two of them. The brunette's grin had to have been connected from ear to ear as she took the hand of her friend,

"Two weeks and an eternity!" Alice embraced her friend, wrapping her slender arms around her slender figure, "You have been treating yourself well, correct?"

The two released from their hug. Ever since her return she had spent little time with anyone but herself. Any time allowed to her that was not spent on wedding planning was often taken up by her fiance. It was true that she had only seen Janet once since her return other than now. She looked at her friend with slanted eyes of apathy, a weak smile forcing a curve on the side of her lips,

"As well as I can." Janet frowned in a joking way,

"That is hardly a response." As false as the statement was, it was all she could think of. She was letting the forced depression get to her. Alice started down her doorstep, walking past Janet as she started down the street,

"It's the response _you'll_ have to settle for."

It was surprisingly warm for a mid October day. Both maidens neglected to wear their thick pea coats, roaming the streets with their simple street wear. Alice wore a pale blue cotton dress, a shade that complimented her eyes with her curls fixed up into a bun. Janet's dress was a forest green, lined with an expensive fabric down it's seams. She couldn't help but inspect her taller friend with envious eyes,

"My dear, you _are _dressing quite fine."

"Thank you." Janet shrugged, skipping to her friend's side,

"Where did you buy such fine wear?"

"The tailor down on Delancy street, Clark bought me it for my..." She paused, ceasing her walking motion. Her eyebrows furrowed in complete confusion as her lips pursed. Today was October twentieth, the day she had been born eighteen years ago. She had become so immersed in her busy life that the holiday was the last thought in her head. The mocking smile from Janet was a signal that she had been testing her,

"I knew that it was new." She squinted at the sight of her friend touching her open red lips, "You catching flies over there? Did you forget that it was your birthday?"

"No!" She protested. The last thing she wanted her friend to think was that she had become so neglectful that she could forget such big events. Alice began her tread down the concrete sidewalk, "I just remembered that Clark had promised to see me tonight."

"Oh." And it was forgotten like that. It was unlike Janet to dwell on odd occurrences. She lived in the moment, it was part of what kept the Thatcher girl sane, "Well, you hadn't finished your sentence, so I assumed... No matter." The sudden memory came to to refresh the mind of the brunette. Her face displayed a thought of epiphany as he quickly began to rummage through her purse, "You won't believe what I got you."

"You didn't have to-"

"Too late!" She already held out a small package in one hand, another hand still stuck in her purse as if she was waiting to pull out a separate gift, "Open it!"

"Janet-" The girl frowned, persistently holding it out with a stubborn gesture,

"Don't make me ask you again." Alice rolled her eyes. The package was wrapped in brown paper tied together with twine. Reluctantly, she pulled the string to undo the bow. It began to unravel after the string was released, revealing the dark cover of a book. Her eyes lit up in excitement at the sight of golden calligraphy forming the words _The Secret Garden_. Like a child, the now young woman couldn't help but jump in her heels, throwing herself at her thoughtful friend,

"You found it! Where was it! I can't believe you found it!" For once, Janet was the calm one as she laughed, gingerly lifting her friend off of her,

"Mother was hell-bent on cleaning the house for the first time in near five years. It was behind father's guitar that he hadn't picked up in ages!" The two of them shared in a laugh, for Alice had become so overjoyed that any thought of her past depression was erased.

_The Secret Garden _was a book about a young girl living with her cousin and uncle, and their journey to rebuilding the garden that was supposed to be hidden away from all residents of the manor. It was a beautiful story to her complete with a happy ending, making it another of her favorite stories of her childhood. After attending a sleepover with Janet, she had lost it and continued to cry for weeks. It had become the center of a lot of their inside jokes, but now that it was found it had become her greatest success story to date. She held it close to her chest for the rest of the evening, giggling with joy,

"Oh Janet, you cannot comprehend how happy this makes me." She winked, pointing a finger at the birthday girl,

"But that's not all!" With a single motion she pulled out a clear sack of different colored wrapped candies, "Remember that candy factory we used to go to every Friday after school?"

"We can't eat those! Mr. Hall won't let us get away with eating sweets!"

"Screw the man, it's your birthday! You can fill your temple with any food you desire on this day!"

"Janet!" A snort escaped her lips as she could hardly contain her laughter. She snuck a candy from the clear bag, plopping the unwrapped chocolate bonbon into her mouth. Neither of the girls could contain their moans of pleasure from the sheer taste of the sweet coco delights.

Together it took the two near a half hour to polish off half the large package of sweets, each the size of a thumb tip. Although it was her temple to worship however she liked, she was not about to ruin years worth of training on her figure. Each candy was equally as delightful as the last, but the taste also brought about a guilty memory that laid untouched in the back of her head.

* * *

><p>Alice was fifteen in the year 1914, a teenage girl that was rather mature for her age in more ways than one. It was normal for girls at this time to dream of their lives to come. Typically their mothers and fathers had not shared with them the whole truth of the world. They were not told that they could become anything, that potential was in it's prime at their age. Instead, they glorified the life of a household wife and mother. They promised bliss, a spoiled nature. But for wealthy girls like Alice, it was not a fabled dream but an ensured reality.<p>

Her mother's controlling antics were beginning to reach their unbearable state, where they would remain for the next three years to come. New rules were made to dwindle her social pool down to the upper crust of their society. This was bearable to Alice. Was it too much to wish for a stable adulthood? But the most impressionable effect on her childhood was her lack of affection and her forced activities. She enjoyed her acting lessons, even dancing. But when a mother begins to crack down and force six hour nights on top of schooling, it is easy to see how it could become an unmanageable stress source.

Alice was depressed. She was unloved and uncared for. The pressure of the dance studio had not helped the situation. One of the worst embarrassments of the time was seeing the thin little twiggy girls twirl across the cedar floors. Each of those skeletons had minimal amount of fat to live with chests more flat than a wooden board. She was different. Alice not a stick, she had breasts.

The memory was clear. It was after hours one evening, and Mr. Hall had requested for her to stay after her already long hours. Her routine needed perfecting he claimed, but in reality he wished to observe something he saw as unacceptable. To the regular spectator, her movements would appear a graceful normality for the typical dancer. Even to her instructor, her dancing was formidable as she walked on her toes in her Pointe slippers,

"Back straight." She arched her spine, breathing deeply to calm her frustrated head. The wrinkled man peered at her from under his furrowed eyebrows. His hand was placed firmly on his chin, his index finger curled across his pursed lips, "Stop." Her movements ceased as she fell into first position, then to a normal stance. She cocked a confused eyebrow,

"What is it, Mr. Hall?"

His feet stomped as he approached the younger girl. By the look in his eye, she knew that she had done something wrong. His nostrils flared as he threw his arm at the girl, who flinched at his frail hand. Veins popped from his aged skin as he gripped the skin of her back. She yelped at the burning sensation at the separation, he pulled,

"Is this fat?" He yanked again, "Tell me girl!"

"Yes, Mr. Hall." Tears began to form at the corners of her eyes at the uncomfortable feeling. Her words were forced as she tried not to show her pain,

"Have you been drinking milk?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hall." He released her skin, as if the confession alone was her punishment. The glistening tears were kept inside her duct as she squeezed her lids shut. Once opened, she innocently looked up at her teacher. Her look seemed to beg for mercy, beg to be dismissed.

But no words were spoken as his eyes drifted to a different body part. When she realized what he was staring at, her heart beat quickened. She had no idea how to react, would she allow him to keep staring at her chest? She shifted her eyes to every corner of the room, finally looking him straight in the eye,

"Mr. Hall?"

"I see you have been maturing, Ms Thatcher." He reached his hand out to her chest, to which by instinct, she knocked away. The man frowned in disappointment, "It is not an issue in the slightest." Alice snarled at first, until she realized who she was speaking with. Like a woman, she would have to submit,

"Excuse me?"

"Normally, I would not ask you to hide your nature as a woman, but I will not have a young girl's bussum failing around my studio like some social defying delinquent. Take care of the situation or you may not remain my student any longer." His voice became harsh towards the end of his statement. He turned, throwing a single hand in the air as he made his way to the opposite door, "You may leave."

* * *

><p>Her shadowed gaze brought tears of remembrance to her eyes as she plopped the last bonbon into the cellophane bag. Here she was, crying, on her birthday. It was no time to be mourning her past experiences, but rather celebrating her future to come. No matter how unsure she was about escaping, the mere idea of it was able to dry her tears. Having gotten the message of Alice's content, Janet re wrapped the bag, shoving it into her purse.<p>

Both of the girl's attention was then brought to a salesman on the street. He was dressed in a bollard cap, much nicer than many others who stood along the paved streets. In his hand he held a folded paper lined with ink letters that had been smudged by his sweaty palm. Each of the girls were swallowed in the crowd by then, which made it that much more remarkable when the man pointed them out in the mass of people,

"Good morning, my ladies, fancy yourselves for the city's weekly paper?"

The two exchanged looks, unsure if to oblige the man with their response. They were dressed nicer than most of the commoners, which probably made them appear more well-to-do enough to afford the world's news. Alice blushed in embarrassment when Janet approached the man with her extroverted personality worn on her sleeve,

"Is the news worth a dime this week? I think it be our right to know, rather than have us ladies pay."

"I have to eat, m'lady." Janet squinted at the man, skeptical of his well being. By the way she scanned him head to toe, especially inspecting his cap, she wondered of his own social standing. But then again, news man wasn't exactly a rich man's profession,

"What is the headline?" The man smirked, waving the strong scented paper in her face. It's fumes trailing up into her nose,

"Hows about you find out yourself. Hot off the press."

Alice watched as Janet ripped the paper from his hand, flipping him a coin as she readily began to stick her nose into the top story. She cocked an eyebrow at the thick bold font reading, "America Intervenes" She took the paper with one hand, pulling it over as to share the issue with Janet,

"American troops draw first blood on French soil?" She questioned, "I thought this was Europe's war."

"Yes siree! Calamity Jane, fired on the twenty third, shot down some Germans! I guess you could call this a world war about now!" Her eyebrows furrowed at the description set by the authors. No way they could have an actual account of the happenings so early after the event. Talk of trench warfare going on, the stories she heard were disturbing,

"Nonsense." She shoved the paper away to Janet's grasp,

"Watch it, I'm still reading."

She folded her arms in disgust and anger. Yet, for a strange reason she hadn't felt nearly as strong about the issue she felt that she should. She had been thinking lately, a lot. Mainly about the issue of murder and forced death. Ever since her encounter with the files the night or so before she felt something change inside her. Murder felt less... extreme to her. The reality had hardened her heart. When she finally realized this, her expression softened as her palms fell to her sides,

"This is horrible."

"It's war." Her cold words turned the heads of both Janet and the man. She wouldn't look at them, only starring ahead. Janet frowned,

"If those damn Balkans mess with the bull, they're going to get the horns." Janet agreed, nodding after her response. Alice smiled in amusement at her friend's slight joke, remembering in the back of her head that Peter had mentioned the war a couple times on her stay,

"Thank goodness for Peter's back problems, or he probably would be the first volunteer overseas. Damned man." Janet looked up in confusion,

"You curse, now?"

"Oh, don't act so surprised." She pulled out a thin brown cigarette from her purse, pre rolled. She held it between her index and middle finger, cocked at the wrist, "You do it all the time." She stuck the smoke in her mouth, swiftly lighting it with a match. This one promoted more stares,

"You've taken up smoking?"

"What of it?" Alice glared, something she wasn't keen of doing. The reminder of war, killing and of Peter struck a nerve in her. But Janet was not one to sympathize as she plucked the cigarette from her lips,

"It is a nasty habit even I don't do." In a hypocritical act, Janet puffed the smoke before throwing it to the ground, "Plus you're a little too goody goody for that, don't you think?" She stomped on the smoldering flame,

"If you say so." Janet softened her frown, changing the subject,

"Peter is... your cousin, correct?"

"Yes."

"The one whom you stayed with in, Texas was it?"

"Yes, why?" She rolled her eyes lightheartedly, shoving the paper back into the mans hands,

"I was only wondering. Your fiance talked of nothing but you in your absence. It was cute, and unbearable at the same time." She took Alice's hand, emerging the two of them back into the sea of people,

"Where are we going?"

"You reminded me of where I wanted to take you!" Alice tripped at the sudden jerk of her hand caused by Janet's carelessness,

"Be careful with me!"

"Oh cmon, Alice!" Janet laughed, "Live a little!"

* * *

><p>"I'm not so sure about this."<p>

"Calm down, we've been here before, remember?"

"Things were different then... now this part of the city is filled with-"

"With what, Alice?" Her friend turned her head to look at her with an expression as blank as a slate,

"Nothing."

Alice treaded close behind her confident friend who took large strides down the pavement. Her posture was straight as she could make it at an attempt to enhance her height, while Alice walked slightly hunched due to her weary state of being in the Harlem area of the city. Many of the newly established glass windows had been shattered by crime in the area, enhancing her stereotype of the city.

The brick apartment housings formed towering walls over the dark streets, intimidating in comparison to a small country home. These housing spaces sheltered nearly the whole black population of the city, striking fear into Alice's deeply prejudice soul. She liked to think that she was not a racist, but it was hard given her upbringing. As they made their way down the littered streets, she couldn't help but notice the many stalls set up by the many salesmen between tall green street lights.

The prejudice of the people who lived there, too, did not lessen her fear of the situation. Only a day before she had ridden through the streets hearing her mother's dastardly assumptions. She seemed too old to be influenced by others opinions, but they were ones deeply engraved into her mind. Over time, it would be difficult to break them, to lessen the fear she had of Negros,

"Where are we going, anyways?"

"You'll see."

"Janet." She turned back to her with a look in her eye embodying the phrase 'trust me, it's worth it'

When the girls arrived at their destination it was easy to say that Alice was taken by surprise. Janet approached a rather battered door, shocking her friend when she had realized that this was their stop. She cocked an eyebrow at the obviously ghetto influenced door,

"Why are we here?"

"So many questions! You will see." Janet clutched the dented brass knob in her hand, kneeing the stubborn door to pry it open. Once she caught herself from her stumble as the door flew open, she gracefully motioned for Alice to enter. She stood still for a moment, wondering if she should enter or not, but figuring she had little choice now, and that Janet was going with or without her, she reluctantly stepped through the doorway.

Instantly the two were taken back by the ambiance of the cramped halls decorated with translucent sheets of many colors, draping the stairways. The floorboards creaked wildly under the multicolored rug that the two stepped on. Alice found it hard to dodge the low hanging chandelier that appeared randomly in the first room,

"Janet, this is really dumb! Let's go!" She whispered harshly out of fear. Janet merely shrugged her off with her equally as brutal words,

"Fine, you can leave. I'm staying right here, Birthday Girl." The shorter girl floated across the floor down the eerie hallway, the ceilings at a height just perfect for her. Alice bit at her nails in a nervous fit, finally deciding to catch up.

The room she had so confidently darted into was equally as dark. In each corner, a different scented candle was lit dangerously close to a curtained window, their aroma was hard to bare as smells of flowers and burning wax filled her nostrils. Small knik knacks lined dark wooden shelves, images of black and white people next to colorful masks. In the center of the room, a small wooden table sat with a woven cloth draped over, three chairs surrounding it. It was a peculiar setting of which Alice raised an eyebrow at, either in fear or confusion,

"Madam Zulu, I presume?" Janet asked. Alice head snapped up to see the hunched over shadow sitting in the corner. It took her off guard, she hadn't seen the elder woman smoking in her rocking chair alone in the corner. When she lifted her head to the two girls, an instant grin flashed her white as snow teeth,

"Yes, my darlins, I was expectin' sum visiturs of yur like." She let out a cackle between her coughs, releasing puffs of smoke from her cracked lips, "Them cards telled me." _Right _Alice thought. She considered rolling her eyes, but her throat was caught a hold by the strangling hands of smoke, forcing her to cough,

"You here fur a readin?"

Her chocolate skin possessed deep wrinkled in her cheeks, aged beyond belief. A deep red bandana held back her greased jet black hair tied into cornrows. Her hooped earrings just topped off her look enough to remind one of a which doctor. Deep brown eyes looked up at her with a wise and kind demeanor, Janet responded,

"That is what you do, correct?" She fetched a small pouch of coins, throwing it onto wooden table,

"Yes, yes. Sit down, please. Miss..."

"Janet, and this is Alice." The aged woman motioned for the unsure Alice to take a seat at her table as she turned to her shelves. Hesitantly, she sat on the rather unstable chair, wrapping her pea coat around it's back.

When the woman returned, she brought a deck of cards larger than her fists. She almost had to lug the deck, plopping them down onto the table top, panting as she sat down,

"Now, children, who wants ta go first?"

"I will!" Janet chimed, raising her hand with a smile of excitement,

"Eager, I sees. Very well, tells me, Janet, how old is you?"

"Seventeen." The woman laughed with a high pitched voice,

"A babeh, I sees. And yus come from money, too."

"Indeed. My father's a banker who owns many of the taxicabs in the city, and my mother was a..."

"Dancer?" A grin wider than ever before appeared on her face at the correct guess. Alice merely rolled her eyes, many wealthy woman were dancers, the only one's who weren't came from working families. She had yet to be impressed,

"But you ain't here ta hear facts, what yews want is yur future." She nodded,

"Yes, please." In response, the woman waved her hand over the deck, taking a generous potion and laying them out on the table faced down,

"Pick three." The girl touched her lips, speculating each corner of each card as if she had x-ray vision. Determined to make the right decision, she pointed to the three that would decide her fate. Madam Zulu plucked each one from the table, sliding each of the remaining cards back into the deck as she did so. Before her, she laid each of them down, flipping them face up as she explained. The first card was one with a man and a woman sitting in a tree, sparsely covered with any clothing. The woman pointed a wrinkled finger to the ancient card, leaning in for effect,

"I see you have a lover, here, and you two feel very strongly for one another."

"She's right." Janet turned to Alice, and back in a frantic motion, "She's right."

"What?" Alice frowned, "You never told me about any..."

"And this..." The woman continued. Next she flipped over the starry card, covering the image of four sections. In one corner, a forest, in another a desert, then an ocean, and last a snowy landscape, "Yew gonna be travelin' lots with one anothurs. Yew ain't gonna be stoppin in one place fur vury long." The girl clapped her hands, oblivious to her friend by her side, who was anything but amused. The last card was then turned over, revealing a shining apple, "Ahh. Yur gonna die a happy gal, yew are."

"Isn't that wonderful" She pressed her balled fists into her lap, turning her head over to her friend, "Now it's Alice's turn."

"No, really, I have no need to..."

"Pick three." She struggled to force her words out,

"Really, I-"

"She'll have those three." Janet pointed them out, but not after a speculating eye of Madam Zulu, to which she nodded in agreement. Anything to speed up the "appointment".

The woman shuffled the remaining cards into the deck. As before, she flipped over each starry card individually as she spoke. Alice's first card was a cradle with four stars floating above in the heavens. To this, the elder smiled,

"Many-uh-children in yur future, my de-uhr." For some odd reason, she couldn't help but smile at that. Not at all in fake purpose, but a warm comforting smile. She had always wanted children. Zulu flipped over the next card. Her second card was a path parting ways in the middle, "And uh great decision ahead of yuhs, regardin' luv." _Alright, impressive. _She gave her that, but she still was not amused. But for some reason, after that last reading, she felt more enthralled with what came next. If she had gotten her so far, maybe this could offer some guidance into her future. Her eyes glued to the last starry card, awaiting it's turning. Alice's response was all but disgust, "Yur gonna be well off, hunny. No muney issues wit you!"

Alice shook the table when she stood, abruptly shoving her chair out of the way as she hastily fetched her coat. The expression in her eye was anger, and it clearly showed when her friend attempted to plea for her to stay. Both counterparts were confused when Alice stormed out of the room in a fit of rage. Janet thanked the elder, apologizing for her friend's behavior before rushing out after her. She had to run to catch up, but when she did her approach was anything but sympathetic,

"Alice, what the hell's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" She responded sarcasticly, "Nothing my ass, why would you disrespect Madam Zulu like that?" She couldn't let her know the real reason. Lying had become Alice's specialty, something she picked up from Janet herself. Having perfected the art, she used it against her that very moment,

"You never told me about your "lover". I thought we were friends." Janet's expression quickly turned from anger to amusement at the comment as she sighed in relief,

"That's all? Oh Christ, you scared me." She laughed, " I met a man while you were off on your adventure in Texas. His name is Linus."

"Is he handsome?" Alice was forced to fake a smile to hide her pain, much to Janet's chagrin,

"Very! He's tall, and strong... His hair is dark red and he's just." She could barely contain her laughter, "He's amazing."

You could see it in her eyes, the glow only expressed the truth in her words in a proclamation of joy. Maybe it was the sparkle when she said his name, or the squeal that escaped her lips before her comment of his perfection. She was in love, and that was a fact easy to see in her mannerisms and state of mind. Whoever this Linus was, Alice wished them happiness, and hopefully a lifetime together spent in bliss. Janet deserved that sparkle,

"I hope to meet him someday soon, Janet. No more secrets, alright?"

"If you follow suit." Alice's eyes widened, looking to her friend who merely returned with a 'really?' expression, "Don't you act so surprised, who is this other man?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look at you, acting like I cannot tell when my best friend of fifteen years is telling a lie. You're even speeding up." She was right, her pace had nearly doubled in speed on account of her own nervous state. She cursed herself for her stupidity as she slowed down,

"Alright, the tarot cards... yes. There is another man."

"I knew it!" Janet fist pumped in her own glory dance, skipping against the whispy October winds, "So who is it? A man from down under,Texas?"

"Yes."

"Does Clark know?"

"No." She frowned up to her,

"Did you sleep with him?"

"Janet! Of course not! Why would I-"

"Calm down, goodness. I am just wondering how you can pass up such a great find like Clark." She closed her eyes to moan, "If Linus was not so tempting..."

"Alright, I get it." She slumped, a clear frown apparent on her lips in an act of disgust in herself,

"Shape up. You need to learn how to carry yourself." She joked. Usually Alice was the one correcting her posture and demeanor, "Who is he?"

"His name is..." She thought for a moment. Should she lie again? No, Janet would surely find out again. She was truly forced to tell the truth, "Jack."

"Is _he _handsome?" Alice peered to the sky. She hadn't really thought of it before, as surprising as it would sound. In reality, Jack was not handsome, at least in the way he made himself appear. If put in the situation she would never allow himself to be shown to any of her kin in his physical state. How would she answer that question,

"Looks do not matter, Janet."

"So he's a hunchback." Alice laughed, carefully dodging some passerbys. She apologized to a man she had bumped into,

"Not at all, why does it matter."

"Sue me for wanting to know of the man whom my friend, who is practically my sister, is soon to elope with." Alice cocked a shocked eyebrow at her,

"Elope? Where would you get an idea like that?" Her nose was pointed upward, but no matter how straight her posture was, Janet could still not make herself appear much above five foot,

"Please, my darling." She started, "If you think I will let you go out with any less of a bang in this city than to, say, elope with a southern country boy into the sunset," She made every word more dramatic than the last as she ran ahead, coming to an abrupt stop as to symbolize the climax of her sentence before lazily turning around, "you are sadly mistaken."

"So how do you suppose I, or we, could carry out such a planned escape?"

"Easy." The confidence in her voice was appealing, as if the answer was ever so obvious, she continued, "Since father owns plenty of taxicabs, I can arrange for one to pick you up late in the evening and take you to the train station far out west for a one stop trip. It will be after everyone is asleep, tomorrow evening."

"But, that is so soon!"

"You stay any longer, Alice, and you sell that much more of your soul to a man you do not love." She stopped before crossing the busy street with the masses of people. Yet, somehow, in the loud streets of New York, the moment seemed silent. No one but her and Janet stood at the stoplight awaiting the tall traffic man to allow them passage as they looked at each other, "He will arrive at midnight. Be ready beforehand, and you will be in Texas before the next day."

* * *

><p>Ahh this chapter turned out really long, it took a bit to write. After looking back I realized I ended up centering it more around Alice's friend than Alice herself. I guess I just enjoy Janet's character a little more xD Don't you worry little kiddies, Jack's coming back into the scene soon. Until then, please review. They encourage me to update faster.<p> 


	14. Little High Cloud

The chest smelled of musty clothes and old wood, the kind of smell produced when old linens are left to fester in some sort of closet. To stick one's nose into that kind of enclosed space would cause such an unbearable aroma with enough stench to send one's mind into a frenzy. It was old, probably made near over a hundred years prior to that date. Full of dents and dings, it was probably retrieved in a robbery of some sort, but was now fated to carry the certain sentimental possessions of a certain deceased family. Next to the aged leather covered chest crouched the twenty some year old man, indefinitely a member of that family lost to the sands of time.

In his arms he lugged many objects. An embroidered handkerchief, a thin leather collar, a hat, and a silver barreled gun. Each obviously had their own significance to him, the handkerchief belonging to his mother. It being the only possession she had of her biological parents before her trip to the orphanage. The fabric was egg white, probably lacking in purity due to it's age, with an emerald green A stitched in the right corner. Memories of his childhood recalled the tissue dangling from the pocket of the rural woman, just hanging by a thread to fall from her warm pocket to the heated soil of the prairie.

The thin leather strap was the remains of a collar formerly left around the neck of his four legged companion, not seen since the day that his father had died. It was assumed that he had been shot by one of the damned army men that raided the ranch that day along with half of his family. Although if that were true, he wondered why the collar was found stuck on a branch while his bloody carcass was not in sight. It was ripped in many places, clearly worn due to it being set to tight around his neck.

Now the hat was something special. It had stuck along side, or literally, to the head, of the man who fathered him. Supposedly. Since his early days of "adoption" by Van der Linde, he had worn the black western styled hat with pride in it's symbolic meaning. It showed his ties to the west, and all it stood for in it's most wild depiction. The dirtied feather, a find given to him by an Apache woman after protecting a child of hers, after shooting near three threatening men to death. To him, this was justice.

But the days of "justice" had passed. By placing the silver barreled pistol at last into it's resting place, it was a symbolic gesture to himself that the trusty "peace maker" was of no use to his next plan of action. While it would normally remain on his belt or at his bedside, or even the shed on a peaceful day, locking it away ensured that he would not find his finger itching for a trigger to pull. He was no law man, and in the times of the dying West, he had no place taking justice into his own hands. Not in this age, those times were long gone.

Without much care in the act, he unloaded his arms into the chest. Each item tended to clack against the side of the wooden chest, but also were muffled by clothes that remained in there prior. Seeing the items thrown in there like that was a torturous sight. It burned in his eyes, his pupils dilating. At the first sign of wetness surfacing on his eye, she squeezed them shut to hide the pain. A salty tear of regret pressed itself from it's duct, rolling down his patted dirt cheeks.

But when he tried to muster the strength to close the chest, something caught his briefly opened eye. A sight of pink was blurred by his tears. He blinked them away, fixating on the image hidden by the cover of his father's black hat. Shifting it's position revealed a familiar possession of his sister, a silky pink ribbon that shone through the light of the window.

His eyes widened, reaching for the thin piece of fabric. It felt so familiar, the same way it felt from years ago, when he had tugged it out of his sister's hair to antagonize her. Out of Caroline's hair. He fingered the smooth fabric, remembering how it looked tied around her dark locks. Between his fingers he felt a tug as he pulled the ribbon away. Around his middle finger, a dark hair was wrapped around his joint. His eyebrow cocked at the sight when he realized that the hair, much too long to be his, belonged to Caroline. It was quite depressing to him that he could barely recall his sister's long black hair before her actions in their childhood. So many memories he kept close to his heart prior to his deep depression had become a blur. He missed the luxury of reminiscing, and as soon as he had received some hope of rekindling the feeling of hope in his life, it was lost. All that remained in his possession now were tangible objects once held by his kin.

Such superficial reminisce of their legacy meant next to nothing to him. If he held no pleasant parting memory, what was left to hold onto to keep him going? The pathetic feeling of disgust overwhelmed his mind as he opened his soaked eyes, bringing him back to reality. In all reality, the only idea he had to hold onto was the hope of a woman he had met so briefly. His delusional state brought him to find some sense of consciousness, as odd as it sounded. This hope was not possible, he had to gain strength to find another way.

Jack grunted, forcefully wiping away his teared with his white sleeve. His eyes burned as he opened them, once again observing the items that lay in the chest below him. To him, the meaning was lost with their memory. Why, he wondered, must he go on in life alone? Was it to spite him? The world was against him, and it provoked him to the utmost extend. He slammed the chest shut with all his strength, shaking the wooden floorboards. Life was not fair, he and the rest of the conscious world acknowledged that. But why the fuck couldn't he win anything? What did he do to deserve the punishment he's been dealt like lashings on a poor slaves back,

"Damn it." He kicked the chest, sending it sliding across the floor to slam against the war, "Why... Goddamn it why?" The tears that he struggled so much to hold in battled their way out, forcing their way to surface. He hated the tears he had become so accustomed to, he wanted it to end.

His eyes shot up to look at the leather chest that now sat against the wall. Gasping for air like a panting dog, he rushed over to it. His hands shook as his fingers fumbled with the automatic lock. Finally unlocking it, he threw the lid open with as much force as he had use to close it. It was a wonder the hinges hadn't broken yet. He trembled more now as he pushed past the possessions to find the silver barreled gun. His shaking hands held the cold metal in his wrist as he hastily opened the cylinder to check for bullets. Two. Just in case the first hadn't finished the job... he believed he would only need one.

His hand tensed around the grip as he stared with complete blankness at the weapon. His breaths were hard and paced through his throat. Surprisingly, he was calm, despite his shaking hand. The idea of the pain ending brought more comfort than the worry of the bullet. Teeth clenched, his hand rose the gun to his temple. It could all end now, he could make it end. He could see his family again, leave the world. In a sense, death excited him. Yet, he felt a resistance as his finger caressed the trigger. He sighed, ready to go.

A wind lifted his grown out hair in the moment. Not caused by a bullet's velocity, but some outside force. Jack opened his eyes in confusion, feeling a slight tug at his opposite hand. He looked down to see his sister's pink ribbon wrapped around his wrist floating in the wind. His eyebrows furrowed in search for where the wind was coming from. His windows were closed, but the direction of the ribbon pointed to the window.

The man breathed out, his hand that held the gun falling limp to his side once more. The silver barreled revolver's metal rang out when it hit the floor. He stood, walking over to the window without much thought. He really wasn't thinking, yet, his hand rose to touch the cool window untouched by the usual heat of his state. Something whispered to him to truly look outside, to see what was out there. Although he was confused, he did not question it. For a moment he thought he was hearing things, that he was insane, but he looked nonetheless. He saw the silo, the barn, and the fence. Looking closer, he saw the silo's broken ladder, the barn's rusty hinges, and the fence's broken and limp wood.

He squinted out at the ranch. It was more of a wreck now than it was upon his father's return, it was a shame. The man opened the window, allowing the wind to surge through the gap of wall. The air blew open his coat, he struggled to close it. But that was when the current caught a hold of the ribbon, taking it with it when it changed course. His eyes widened at the sight of his sister's ribbon floating around outside before he had a chance to grasp it. His heart pounded with worry as he carried off into the distance.

It hadn't taken another thought for him to rush out of his room and out the back door, his feet carrying him faster than the day John had returned home after his three month long absence. He hadn't lost sight of the ribbon, it still twirled in the October winds. Once it came to the fence, however, it was caught on the eroded piece of wood. This calmed him, sighing in relief he started to walk over to the fence rather than waste his breath running. In frustration, he looked angrily at the still wild piece of fabric. His expression changed, however, when he began to see how badly the fence had deteriorated. For the first time in three years he really saw how far he had let his father's dream fall as he looked closely at all of the buildings. He turned back to the ribbon, swiping it up on his hand. He peered, smirking slightly at the object. No words need be spoken to realize that he was not alone.

* * *

><p>"Can I help you, sir?"<p>

The atmosphere of the shop felt different. Odd, strangely. The rooms felt colder, filled with a surrounding vibe of emptiness. But the shelves were still fully stocked, for the most part. And the room was the same size as it had been since it's erecting. Still, the space still smelled of burnt wood chips and daily goods. Peter still leaned against the counter-top arms spread, with that same apathetic face he often had plastered across his face when he couldn't find it in him to smile. Jack couldn't understand why the shop felt so... bizarre besides the constant circumstance,

"Oh, Jack." He brushed his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes in a yawn, "What can I do ya for?"

"I, uh-" Jack stuttered, "I'm gonna be needing some nails."

"What for?" Peter questioned. Jack smiled in response, wondering why it was any of his business,

"I figured I'd better be fixing up that sorry fence around my Pa's ranch." Peter laughed, turning away to find out where he placed his steel nails,

"Going off of what I've seen, you're gonna need a hell of a lot more nails than I have." He plopped a bunch of nails tied together with twine onto the counter with one strong hand, "Here you are."

Jack stood motionless, staring blankly at the metal pegs that lay on the wooden surface. For some odd reason he had spaced off into a trance. When he caught himself, an instant pain coursed throughout his head. He moaned quietly, shutting his eyes to rub his forehead,

"You wouldn't happen to have a spare hammer, would you? The one I found looks like the handle was made in the dark ages." Peter peered with his dark eyes from under his ragged caramel hair, slowly turning away,

"Yeah."

The following moments were filled with silence. A bit awkward, but ultimately just quiet. Jack thought, still listening to the breathing walls. It was as if the wood in them were still living, and the room were alive. He shrugged, looking back over to the man who rummaged through the shelves,

"It feels different in here, don't it?" Peter sighed deeply in frustration. Whether it was at Jack's pathetic attempt at conversation or the fact that he couldn't find the tool, he breathed deeply none the less,

"You get used to the silence." He ahhed in relief as he found the shining hammer, grabbing it's cedar handle, " Can't say I don't miss the girl." When he turned to face Jack a second time, his eyes were inspecting. He wanted to see the reaction he got when mentioning Alice, but the results were less than what he expecting. He didn't light up, on keeping his eyes glued below his,

"She had a lot to say about many things." Peter laughed slightly, his eyes drifting to the same position Jack's had,

"She did." He looked up, gazing at him in the silence. He could see the pain in his eyes, " You came here looking for her, didn't you?" Jack's eyebrows furrowed,

"No. She's been gone a while now, hasn't she?"

"About a month. Or more, Lord knows." He shrugged, " Shouldn't matter, either way. It was temporary, now she's off marrying the practical king of New York."

"I didn't know it was a monarchy back east." Peter laughed, his smile fading so slowly from his face as he tranced, "She didn't seem so enthusiastic about it."

"Because she doesn't understand the importance of financial stability." He closed his eyes, shaking his head, "She was raised on a pedestal by her father, who just so happens to be Midas. She don't know the value of a dollar." He sighed, "Although I shouldn't be complaining. He's the reason I'm still in business."

"How so?" Peter looked up at him with speculating eyes,

"I ain't been having the best of luck, financially. I've probably had to set up shot in near seven counties. This is the first one that's seemed to be permanent. If it weren't for his endless pockets... I'd probably be in turmoil." He sighed a last time, shaking his head in disgust. Here he was talking down about his cousin and her father to a man who, in his mind, violated her for all he knew. But he missed her, and in his anger he found it best to cope by slander, "But Alice... she's just so naïve. God bless her, but Christ, if she wasn't raised around the common people of New York she just might not believe in evil. She's seventeen, she's a kid, but I'm not sure if she'll ever grow up. This wedding... the more I think about it the more I wonder if the benefit of social stability is worth keeping her so innocent."

"What's so bad about innocence? Some of us ain't never been blessed with it... what I'd give to have the luxury of thinking this world is built by men who give a shit about the poor."

"One day she's going to get bored, and the only place to go will be down. Now, Mister Marston, would you rather stay on a little high cloud your whole life and find yourself looking down on what suffering may come, or enjoy the tiny shreds of happiness knowing you earned them?...and that'll be five dollars."

Silence followed and he reached for the money. He payed, and thanked the man as he exited. Not much was left to be said concerning the situation, and really, Jack wasn't sure what Peter was getting at. One moment he's convincing him that this could be the best thing for her, and the next he's talking about how she won't appreciate life. All the while he was powerless, they both were. All they could do was sit there and wonder about her future. But that was not healthy, and in reality, he should move on. She was in New York, selling her soul to a life of boring bliss. And that was all to say about the matter.


	15. Departure

_Dear Jack,_

_It has only been a month or two, but it's a feeling I cannot explain that makes me think it has been much longer. It's not a longing I have, or an aching heart of infatuation. The feelings I have, I believe to stem from my passive lonely nature. Your company is unlike many men I've had, and that is what I've grown to miss._

_It is not in my best nature to assume stronger feelings for a man other than my fiance. Once again, I cannot assume that I, in fact, feel the way it might seem about you. What I said before was out of desperation, but I still enjoy your presence. I want to be around you, rather than any other. You were, and still considered to be, my friend. I wish to help you on your farm._

_ Alice_

That had to have been the third letter written that day. Re-worded, and re-phrased multiple times. Her latest letter destined to be unsent had taken a minimum of an hour to write. Yes, her letters were not meant to be sent. It is a common tendency amongst people who wish to cope to put down all their feelings on paper, but not to grace the receiver with the message, usually out of respect. But these letters were not meant to harm him, but to express her actual feelings.

She had thought a lot in the past two months. Contemplated her feelings and opinions toward her destined future. It wouldn't take an expert to predict that she wished to spend her life far away from Clark. He was not a bad man, only controlling and compulsive. She did not know him in a way that made her long for him as a wife should. But then again, neither did Jack. Which is why her decision to leave was not an easy nor an obvious one.

Love was not her sole toil, however, for her future well-being must always be taken into account. In truth she was born onto a pedestal with a silver spoon in her mouth. Money was something she hadn't come to value. If she chose Clark, she could continue the charade of her naivety. If she chose Jack, she might not be sure what to expect from a life requiring hard work. It could have been good for her.

The young woman stretched her long arms, propping herself up against her headboard after laying slouched for an hour. Her back ached from her improper posture, she moaned. Her letter had been placed on her comforter as she stood up to walk across the room. The space was so vast, so much bigger than her room in Blackwater. It made her wonder if she ever needed so much room when she hardly ever spent time in there.

From under her arched dresser she retrieved a heavy suitcase she had hidden from Eliza, the maid. Painfully, she lugged it onto the fluffy mattress feet away, watching as it bounced upon impact. When she unbuckled the brass latches, she revealed it to be half packed with dresses, hats, and books. Enough to fill a normal sized luggage box. Shifting her head side to side, she rushed over to her door, locking it with a key that laid on her nightstand. At least, she thought it locked.

Satisfied with her proactive decision to prevent intruders, she continued with her packing. She hummed a tune similar to the ones she heard on dates with Clark. Right now her choice was Alexander's Ragtime Band, which she bopped her head to as she tucked away her blouses. She twirled around, holding one against her chest as she modeled in the mirror. But a sudden knock on the door took her by surprise,

"Alice my dear?" She jumped, instantly recognizing the man's voice, her eyes shifted to the note that laid on her mattress,

"Yes, hello?"

"Are you decent? May I come in?"

"Is this Clark?" He laughed, allowing himself in without her response,

"Who else were you expecting?"

He was dressed in a gray suit that seemed tailored to a tee around his waste. On his head he wore a matching Homberg, and around his neck a red striped tie. She scanned him head to toe with an approving look, fixating a smile to match his. How happy he seemed, despite the fact that he had just let himself in,

"The devil himself!" She exclaimed as she hugged him. But before the embrace, she was sure to have his back turned to the bed. She quickly tore away, keeping her hand on his shoulders, "What brings you here today?"

"May a woman's fiance not see his future wife?"

"It's just a tad unexpected... but no hindrance." He turned his head to look at the mattress. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the open suit-case that laid open on the bed with clothes pouring out. He directed his eyes back to Alice,

"Are you packing?"

"I- uh." She stuttered, running her fingers through her hair, "I am still unpacking."

"It's been months, hasn't it? You arrived back in August." He looked down at her with dagger like eyes that she refused to meet, but could feel beating into her none the less,

"Well with all these parties and arrangements I've found little time for settling in." Lie accomplished, and bought,

"It won't be long until you will be settling in with me, now won't it?"

Her eyes widened as she turned back to him. How his disposition had changed to that of warmth and acceptance. Clark was kind to her, a provider. In truth, he was everything a husband of that time should be. Through her rebellious nature that she commonly repressed, she hated it. She had convinced herself that she did not deserve him, and although he cared for her, there must be an underlying excuse for her to leave. Realizing how displeased she looked, she plastered a second smile to him,

"Clark, what is your favorite animal?" He cocked his eyebrow in confusion,

"Why do you ask that?" She laughed a bit, directing her immediate attention to unpacking the blouse which she was previously folded in the case,

"Just a question."

Clark thought for a moment, taking a seat on the mattress next to her. He took his hat in his hand as he lifted is chin in thought. His eyes grazed the floral wallpaper that touched each corner of the room as he fumbled with the rim of his hat. He pursed his lips before speaking,

"A bear."

"Why is that?" He smiled at her,

"Vicious creatures they are, but they are most devoted to their kin. As I am to you." Her cheeks grew red in embarrassment, and an internal agony, "They also provide the most enjoyment on the hunt. The adrenaline rush of a massive beast charging you, the cool barrel of a shotgun in my hand... it's a feeling like none other." Her smile faded,

"You hunt?" She was still fixated on her unpacking,

"Of course. It's a gentleman's sport, my dear." For a moment they both sat in silence, Alice hardly spoke,

"I see." He raised an eyebrow at her, observing her odd behavior,

"What is yours?" She looked up in surprise. In fact it shocked her that she hadn't thought of an answer for herself before asking Clark the question. She paused, cocking an eyebrow before answering,

"A Dove." She smiled, "They are birds of celebration, and peace. They are released at weddings and other joyous occasions. In the Bible, Noah sent out a dove to seek out land. When it returned, it brought a message of hope when an olive branch was found. It was a savior."

"You understand how, so often they are locked up. They are kept in cages so others can admire their beauty, but they can never escape. It is not their will to be there... all they wish for is freedom. To be free." She looked over to her fiance, the pain in her eyes evident, "Why can they never be freed?"

Clark didn't respond for a long while, only keeping his eyes in a trance so as to come up with a wise response for his foolish fiance,

"They were born in cages, Alice, they see no difference. They are happy." _Are they really? _She thought it best not to question him, only moving on to change the subject,

"Had you made any plans?"

"For what?"

"This evening, Darling."

Her comment was snide and spoken from the crease of her mouth. The note flew to the bed beside him as she pulled out a blouse. Quickly, she grabbed for it, hoping he hadn't seen a thing as she stuffed it back in the suitcase. Yet, she couldn't help but feel more eyes in the back of her head, but she figured it was her paranoia and ignored the feeling,

"I figured we could go to dinner. That I could spoil you with the finest foods."

"As you always do." She smiled up at him, slamming her empty suitcase shut, "Are we leaving soon?"

"The cab is out front."

"I'll go get my coat."

Alice left Clark alone in the room as she left to her walk in closet. She reached her arm around the corner hook. When her hand grabbed at nothing, she knew the coat had been moved. A groan escaped her lips as she began shuffling through the massive amount of clothes. A floral dress, a fur coat, a sash. The order was perfectly organized by outfit. Multiple pairs of heels littered the floor. It was only when something was lost that she would ever take in how fortunate she was.

Alice got on her knees, not without hindrance. She crawled under the dresses, reaching for what looked like her black pea coat that matched her dress. When she grabbed the woolen fabric, her head hit the wall,

"Damn." She whispered,massaging the red mark with the back of her wrist. Clumsily, she stumbled to her feet, coat in arm. She continued to rub her forehead as she exited the room, "Shall we go?"

The sight of Clark with the crumpled paper allowed her heart to drop, for every bit of color to drain from her face. If she hadn't known better, she'd have sword she looked like a ghost. Clark looked up with a pathetic expression upon his face. Neither of them knew what to say, so neither of them spoke a word. Alice slowly dropped her hand from her forehead, her cool fingertips now grazing her dress.

His face was blank as he studied her. Maybe he wasn't even seeing her, only fixating his eyes so that his mind may be emptied. But his smile had faded, his hands weak and numb. He breathed in, and sighed. He dropped the note he carried between his middle and forefinger on the sheet, turning away to exit the room in silence.

For that moment, she stood in shock. It was coming, she knew, but she wished she hadn't needed to experience it in person. Her eyes welded up as she rubbed her temple. Her sigh came ragged, uneven. The future was now set, but her nerves kept her second guessing.

* * *

><p>It was midnight in New York city. Few lamps were left lit on each apartment doorstep, few men still strolled the streets. Maybe the occasional constable, but not enough people to have suspicion in an unordinary practice of a woman being outside at late hours. The sun had set, and outside the house a taxicab had parked. The driver hastily hit the breaks, careful not to pass. He had been told not to honk the early version horn, only wait. Wait for the young maiden to exit the house.<p>

Meanwhile, Alice was still frantic in her room. Trying to remain as quite as possible, she tiptoed in cotton slippers across the creaky floorboards as she quickly packed the clothing she had "unpacked" earlier in the day. She worked by the light of a candle, not of her new lamp. Hastily, she whipped from side to side. She prayed she had collected all of her necessities before packing up. It took all of her young body's strength to close the case, leaning on it and clamping the buckle at the same time.

The woman sighed, hoisting the suitcase up with one arm. Thankfully, the heavy lifting of Peter's store had given her a new arm's strength to carry the case with less stress than necessary. Quietly, she opened the door and started down the staircase. She was careful of each step not to awaken her mother or father. Usually, her father snored so loud as to muffle any floorboard squeaks.

She had nearly reached the bottom when a dark figure in the corner of her eye caused her heart to drop to her toes for a second time that day. She had been caught,

"Alice, child?" The southern voice both soothed her nerves but kept her more alert. Eliza was the shadowy figure. She didn't respond, "Alice ah see ets you."

"Yes." She stepped off the last few stairs, meeting face to face with her nanny and maid,

"Whatchu got dat case fur?" Alice sighed, unable to compile any situation other than what evidence allowed,

"I'm leaving." The elder woman frowned, placing her strong hands on her wide curvy hips. Eliza was far from fat, but she wasn't a stick either,

"Leavin'? Leavin' how?" The young girl's gaze dropped, her sense of defeat evident,

"I cannot stay here any longer. I am going back to Texas." Thankfully Eliza kept her voice quiet as to not disturb her parents, but her sass was still evident,

"How's yew think yur gonna do dat?"

"There is a cab parked outside... I have a train ticket with my things. You must let me go or I shall miss it."

"Let yew go?" She questioned, "Miss Thatcher, ahm afraid ah can't do dat."

"Eliza." She pleaded, "I'm miserable here. The engagement with Clark... it's over. If I stay mother will beat me I swear. If you want me to be happy, you'll let me go."

Through the darkness, Alice could see her eyes change. From confusion and frustration they change to a soft sympathy and pity. For the past few months she had witnessed her struggles and pain. She had tried to console her herself, but Alice was too far gone for help. Letting her go... maybe it was the only last shred of hope she had for her to be cured. She had watched her grow from a young child to a young woman, and happiness was her only wish for the girl who had become like her own daughter,

"If ah lets yew go, ahm gonna haf tuh tell 'em in duh mornin." A weak smile grazed her lips in response,

"Alright."

She threw her arms around the elder maid, whispering her thanks to her lifelong companion as she turned for the door. Like a church mouse, she allowed the October winds to gust through the door, braving the elements as she exited the house. All the while Eliza stood on the wooden staircase. She stared at the glass door, shaking her head. If she hadn't known any better, she'd have sworn that tiny wrinkle on her lip was a smile. A hidden smile that she kept for the rest of the night. It was late, she figured, time for bed. With a sigh, she turned and started up the stairs.


	16. Her Return

"Would you like some help with your luggage, Miss?"

"I believe I am perfectly able, but I give you my thanks regardless." The rugged man gave a hearty laugh,

"Alright, sweetheart."

It was colder than she remembered it, the Texas air. It had only been a few months, but soon the air had been chilled. Not a single warm breeze was able to draw sweat to her brow. Only chills. Then again, it was nothing like it was up north. She hiked up her shawl, tightening it's space around her shoulders.

It was November now, the 1st. About now ranchers and southerners alike had gotten to thinking about their livelihood and how to keep them healthy in the coming months. It was rare for it to snow, but it could get bitterly cold. Alice couldn't help but wonder just how these leather skinned people did it. They had the heart of pioneers they did. But their land was being tamed, and soon enough the spirit may be gone.

Everyone appeared to be dressed the same, a few more shawls than normal. With her left hand she gripped the ends together, lugging along her suitcase wit her right. It took little effort, after adjusting to he pain, to reach the road. After some thinking, she realized that she had little place to go... perhaps she should pay Peter a visit? Her mind was too busy fathoming what to say to Jack if she saw him than wondering where her next move would take her. Oh the curses mother must be thinking right now.

She let her feet take her to the general store. It was unlocked, so she let herself in. By instinct she grabbed for the bell, silencing it's jingle before it would alert Peter of her coming. Closing the door, she poked around a bit. Still the walls were fully shelved, a good or bad sign depending on the situation. Quietly, she propped her suitcase up against the wall next to a crate of bullets. She should hope that her horse was still hitched up in the alley way, unless Peter were to have sold it. Doubtful in her mind. She removed her shawl, bawling it up on the counter top next to her hat as she left through the back door.

As expected, her chocolate brown horse was hitched to the hickory post implanted in the ground. A troft of water sat near dry against the wall, depriving her baby of much needed nutrition. Alive frowned at the sight, placing her hands on her hips,

"Neglectful man." She pressed her fingers to her dark mane, admiring her straight thick hair. Her fingers quickly were caught on multiple knots, a sign of a much needed brushing. Rolling her eyes for the umpteenth time, she murmured another negative term to herself,

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that." Alice jumped, turning around with wide eyes. Against the door frame the infamous Peter leaned. His flannel sleeves were hiked up to his elbows, his shirt half buttoned and only kept against his body by brown suspenders. She touched her chest, frantic from the surprise, but she said nothing.

The look he gave was blank, as if he weren't surprised she was coming, only not expecting it. His eyes seemed to be full of confusion, yet, confidence. Peter was usually one to be on edge, but for now he was calm. Although his hands must have been balled in his pockets, she hadn't seen. The man shrugged at her, creasing his forehead as he spoke,

"What're you doing here, Alice?" Her eyes fell to the horse once more. She cocked her body to the side, refusing to make eye contact as she brushed her mane with her nails. Peter sighed, dropping his gaze to the ground. He was frustrated with her lack of response, " You know full well why you're here, why don't you say it?" Still nothing, he directed his gaze at her once more, "Am I talking to a wall?"

"No, you're not." Her voice was soft and innocent, but her eyes never met his. He groaned, rubbing his forehead in a search for words, "You haven't filled her troft in days, I see. She's parched."

"I've been trying to find a buyer. Surprisin', with all these easterners bringing their cars out here there's been little need for the stead." He shook his head, "Shame."

"It's a more practical and reliable way to get from place to place, you shouldn't be so prejudice against advancement." He cocked his eyebrow at her, slightly chuckling under his breath,

"What're you doing here, then?"

"I'm not a very practical person." She smiled warmly, much to his amusement. Behind the weak smirk of his, he still held quite a bit of confusion, many questions had gone unanswered,

"I'm not going to pretend like I don't have a clue what's going on, honey, I think it don't even need to be said." He scratched the back of his neck, "But before you do anything that could very well affect your future..." His eyes pierced into hers with little emotion, "I think we need to talk."

* * *

><p>"On an off note, Peter, I still wonder why father never let us meet as children." Alice crossed her arms, turning her head, "At least not more than once or twice."<p>

"Uncle Charlie never really saw his brother as much of a turn out. Once he had the audacity to call our family White Mountaineers."

"Father? Really?" She questioned, "What might have sparked that?" Peter shrugged,

"Pa couldn't stand the city. Instead of going off to college he headed south, started a logging business in North Carolina."

"No kidding." She smiled, "Where the lumberjacks would float the logs down the river?"

"Yeah. Precisely. I still remember as a kid hearing the echoes of 'Timber' off in the forests." He cupped his hand over his mouth when he yelled the call, "Ma always said he'd make her a widow someday. But unfortunately she was the first to go." His eyes widened when he realized what he had just said. His head turned to his cousin in apology, "My apologies, I didn't mean to get so off track."

"No, I am sorry... really." He shrugged, stuffing his hands back into his brown pockets,

"Not a problem. You get used to being alone out here on the frontier. 'Cause everyone's alone."

"Although the West is dying, Peter... maybe it is time you found yourself some sort of company. A wife?" He stared at her in disbelief,

"This coming from a woman who's just ditched any chance she had at a life of pure attention."

"My situation is completely unrelated to yours."

"Alice." He contradicted, "If only you knew."

"Elucidate?" He laughed, lifting his eyes to the sky and the clouds. Above a brown eagle soared, his wings stretching across the Texas sky,

"You haven't had a day in your life where you've lived in fear of being alone. No matter what you had a roof over your head, food to eat, and a healthy family that'd spend any amount of their millions to make sure you prosper. What you fear isn't being alone, it fact it isn't fear at all. You're curious of the suffering we normal people endure." He looked back to her, "Every tear you've shed you brought upon yourself. In your own curiosity."

"Just because my parents are well-to-do does not mean I'm immune to human emotion."

"You're sheltered, Alice. That is something you can't deny." Alice frowned, turning away to walk the other direction at an intersection,

"So you're only talking to me to point out my faults and flaws? I am not a perfect being, I am the first to admit. But I'm not going to stand here and be insulted so!"

"Alice." He grabbed her arm, to which she struggled. But his might was too strong, she ceased,

"Let go of me."

"Act your age. Sometimes you gotta be told things blunt like." She ripped from his grasp, quickly folding her arms in a childish fit. The man sighed in defeat,

"I'm tired of being treated like a child, Peter... I did a lot of thinking back home. About my future, about life outside of being a spoiled destined house-wife. If I'm going to learn to appreciate life, why not start now? I want to earn everything I have, everything I own."

Peter stared, unsure of her sincerity. The serious nature in her eyes seemed convincing enough to him, but still he found it hard to accept. She was still a seventeen year old girl, near eighteen. Ideas like these came and went everyday. But a tiny strand of hope kept him wondering if any maturity she might have gained in the last few months had stuck,

"That's a bold statement, are you sure about it?"

"It's possibly the only thing I have been positive about in my whole life." His eyes continued to stare into her's, as if he could see her soul. She refused to break, a stubborn nature that had always been in her possession,

"I can only assume Uncle Charlie gave no authority for you to be here?"

"Absolutely none."

He groaned for a moment, shaking his head. How stressful a journey was ahead of them, yet, he was glad for it. In all honesty he was glad, even thrilled that Alice was back. He had company again, and she was quite the amusing figure. Whether it was aloud or not he was happy she had escaped her bird cage to join him in the painted blue skies. He couldn't help but laugh in response, much to her confusion,

"You're one fickle fellow, Peter Thatcher."

"Sure as hell am."

Church bells could be heard in the distance. Their chime caught Alice's ear, turning her attention towards the tall steeple. Each ring sounded through her ears so perfectly, their noise crisp through the cool winds. It was if they were calling her,

"Is it Sunday?" She asked,

"Indeed it is." She didn't respond, only staring off into the distance that surrounded the church. From a block or two away she could still hear the voices of the attendees heartfully chanting the incantation,

"I must attend a service, Peter... it is my duty. I must pray now more than ever." He nodded in response,

"Of course."

* * *

><p>She thought it best to sneak in during song as to not disturb the people mid-service. As she turned from closing the large wooden doors, she saw that the pews were filled moderately with pioneer folk. Some with young children, but most were alone. Most middle aged women, some middle aged men accompanying them. So as to not draw attention to herself, she sat in the third pew to the back, in front of a small family. She let her hands graze the wooden railing, before sitting down with the church people.<p>

For the next hour the people sat patiently. Some listened attentively to the priests lectures about everything from the gussied up easterners to the war across the Atlantic. Most sat unnerved by the length of time, tapping their feet and fanning themselves despite the cold. The small children grew restless as few began to cry. Alice watched rudely as a mother carried her disruptive child from the slender bench out the door. The whole service could hear the loud whipping the mother gave to her child's behind. Witnessing the tear stained face of the young child as they marched back in was heartbreaking. And for some reason, that moment stuck with Alice.

It was not long after that the service ended. Each group or individual standing, and slowly leaving. Some stopped to chat for a minute with the townsfolk. For a town that not even two decades ago went through such a period of barbarianism, the people now seemed so much more kinder. When you have little company, it's better to make the best of the situation. The priest proceeded to collect his papers and books, organizing them on the newly made podium. All the while, Alice stayed. She kneeled, continuously praying for minutes after the church had been cleared of visitors.

Finally she lifted her eyelids to the world outside of her prayer. Her eyes instantly met the wooden cross nailed to the back of the church. She felt her heart drop at the thought of her prayer, a strange feeling. She stood, walking closer to the cross. With a cocked eyebrow, she stared for a moment in deep thought. God, what a wondrous creature he must be,

"Father?"

The man that turned to her request was not dressed in lordly attire. He wore no robes; there most likely was none in the area. There was no need to impress the citizens of Blackwater. Instead he wore a simple suit and no hat. His hair was slicked back, and his eyes were kept protected by thin circular spectacles, of which he adjusted in his nervous twitch,

"Yes, my child, what is it?" He seemed to stutter slightly, no nearly as confident as he was in his sermons. Alice's gaze never left the wooden cross, her eyes peered in a never ending wonder,

"Are those who pray more often than others more favored by Christ?"

The man with spectacles smiled warmly; his presence seemed to shine in front of her. His name was Father Fulton, the son of Sam, a notorious cynic of the post-Civil War west. After witnessing the murdering aspect of his father's nature, he pursued a life of piety under the wisdom of Christ. He never looked back, for the title seemed to fit him nicely. He approached the young girl, interlocking his fingers as he spoke,

"Christ does not favor, dear. All who seek goodness in their lives are entitled to an equality under his guidance." He paused, adjusting his glasses, "We are all his children and, as a mother should, loves us all equally."

"But Father," She questioned, "Why must our heavenly father allow such suffering? Allow some to achieve wealth and leave others to beg in the streets?"

"You are very questionable. May I ask why you hold doubt?"

"Not doubt." Her eyes fell, fearing she had offended the priest, "Only curiosity. Surely only those who question and still retain faith are sincere in their belief of a God."

"Belief is belief, and faith is faith." He motioned his hands in a weighing fashion, "Only through suffering shall we find ways to believe. In a perfect world, there would be no need for faith."

Alice closed her eyes, closing her hand to place over her heart. It beat slowly under her fingers, allowing her to breath at a steady pace. Once again she directed her eyes in a hopeful gaze over to the wooden cross,

"I have been without direction for some time now, Father. I've been so lost alone. Throughout this time I have prayed little, and doubted much. For that I have sinned and I cannot repent for it is too late."

"It is never too late to repent in the eyes of god." She looked back to him,

"But I am still without guidance. Once more I am at a daring crossroads that, in both paths, I will hurt someone."

"Child." The man stopped her with a held out hand, "Throughout our journey of life, there will be times like these. It is our nature to forget his presence and to shame his name." The man paused, reaching into his suit jacket to pull out a strand of wooden beads, "But his spirit is always with you. May every decision you make be by his guidance."

Father Fulton placed the rosary around her neck, allowing the wooden cross and beads to fall gracefully to her chest. In wonder, the young woman took the wooden cross in her fingers, observing it's intricate design of a holy figure nailed to it's branches. The wood smelled of a pleasant incense, allowing her to wrinkle her nose in it's strong scent. She looked up to the man, nodding in thanks,

"Thank you Father. I must be getting home, I promised Peter I would meet him later."

"And peace be with you."

* * *

><p>When Alice returned to the General Goods store it was nearly noon, the time he would often take off on break. Whether he was off enjoying a ride around the frontier or simply enjoying a sober card game over at the saloon, he was absent. The fact that he had locked the door furthered her frustration as she stood in annoyance, knocking at the door. No one answered. She crossed her arms as she stepped away.<p>

In an idle state her mind began to wander. Her eyes were glazed in exhaustion, but she lacked the funds ready at hand to purchase a room at the inn. She had locked her suitcase in the store. When the thought of her own tired state began to loose interest, her mind still searched for a thought to think about. To ponder, and to linger on in the back of her head. She subconsciously shuffled through the many memories she held, until she remembered the last time she had stood locked out of Peter's shop. Of course, she had locked the door herself in stead, but she remembered it so clearly. And who showed up not long after.

That's when the pit of her stomach feeling resurfaced. How that man had grown on her so fast, and for some unknown reason she threw away her future for the possibility to even see him again. She groaned at the feeling, throwing her hands to her face. Taking a few steps forward, she placed her forehead on the rough brick. Her mind had spasms of returning to the lake, the ranch, even to the church with Jack. She couldn't help but think about him, and wonder if he ever thought about those time as well.

When she finally stood, a throbbing pain surged through her forehead. She lightly rubbed the red imprint of brick, cursing slightly to herself. It was then she started towards the back alley way. There her horse still stood, parched as ever. Still Peter neglected to water her. Alice took her reigns, untying her from the post and leading her to a nearby troft,

"There there, girl." She cooed. The grateful horse slopped around the full container, messily spraying her in the process. She gave a light laugh as the horse finished, finally mounting her, "Shall we go?"

It was a mix of feelings, arriving at the ranch. The sight of the broken down buildings mixed with the gloomy atmosphere was familiar in her memory. It felt like only yesterday she had been criticizing Jack for letting such a farm of promise go to waste, until things went horribly wrong. Maybe it had been stupid of her to come back. No, she _was _an idiot after all. She had come to far to look back now. By this time her mother had more than likely squeezed some information out of Eliza. Unsure how this foolish impulse of her's would play out, she kicked her horse to start to the ranch.

But something was different in the distance, a person more than likely was moving around. The task the man, who was undeniably Jack, was trying to accomplish was unclear to her at the moment. Soon he revealed to be measuring a post next to the old rotted fence's wood. First a single pole, then another. Was he... building a new fence?

He turned to enter the barn, where he remained for the next minute or two. Alice hesitated, quietly hitching her horse on the post outside the barn. She relied upon her ballet lessons to give her soft feet as she dismounted and neared the broken building. It's wood was dark and appeared aged beyond it's years, just as she had remembered it. Why did she always remember her times in Blackwater as some distant memory?

Her heart wretched with pain as she neared the large closed door. The opposite was open, the one Jack had entered. For some reason she could not muster up the courage to step through it or to open her door herself. Instead, she pressed her back against the outside wall, closing her eyes to breath silently. Her head bobbed, her left hand solely pressed against the larger doors.

What is wrong? Her mind raced with empty thought. Any form of consciousness was fogged and all was forgotten. All but her goal. This pain inside her chest caused her heart to race, leaving her out of breath. Leaving was a serious consideration at the moment in time. It was not too late, she could board the next train and head straight home. That is what she will do, that is... Numb. Her body tensed, tensed but also felt flushed as if a cool wind had surged through her. Like some form of spirit had given her courage. Something important had happened here before, and the remaining spirit was edging her on. But she should leave. Her fate laid elsewhere she was sure of it. She pressed her palm against the door, pushing the wide door open. It left enough of a space for her to squeeze through the crack.

The rusted hinges squeaked, but from what she saw the man did not turn his head. Maybe he was used to the wind blowing it open instead of an outside force. Her breaths were anything but quiet, which took his attention away from his work bench. The man turned his back from his work. Her heart which once beat so fast dropped into a low thumping in her stomach. She said nothing.

A bit confused at the approach of company, but clueless all the less. Until he registered her figure, her face, and her familiar voice. The one whom he had first heard that faithful day she had arrived in their godforsaken town. The one that sobbed so hardheartedly at her spoiled and tragic life. His eyes widened in some shock, but more in confusion. She suspected it was not anger due to the fact that his voice was somewhat calm, and his eyes shifted back into that of a look he would give a stranger,

"Can I help you miss?"

Now she was shaking with persperation in her palms. Her icy fingertips drummed against her cotton skirt in fit of anxiety. Why was her heart beating so fast when she saw the disapproval on his face. How could any of what she put on the line be worth his apathy. Nothing in her past life mattered now. When the answer came to her, it was clear as the skies above. That clearness brought about the slow beating of her heart to a normal pace,

"Jack." She pleaded

The color returned to her face when she realized that she just didn't care about the consequences. For the first time in her life she was not thinking ahead to over analyze the planned outcome. In her heart, she knew he was happy to see her. Behind his weary and pained eyes she could see that he was glad to see her back,

"Do you need anything?" Alice peered with slanted eyes, sick of his playing dumb,

"Yeah," She huffed, "Maybe, if just for a moment, you could act like you're happy to see me."

Jack laughed softly to himself as he leaned against the workbench with ease. He lifted his head to the barn ceiling with his chuckles. If they were at her, she didn't know it. Her head was in too much of a whirl to process much of anything at the moment,

"Aren't you supposed to be in New York?"

"I was." She agreed, trying to play off her anxiety, "I guess I got a tad bit bored."

"Well there ain't much out here to keep you entertained, sweetheart." He sighed, dropping his chin, "I'm not quite sure why you'd waste your time."

"It's not a waste." She contradicted, "It's quite beautiful out here. There's so much... space."

"Space." The look he gave her was that of confusion and idiocy, "You left your pedestal in New York for... space?" She nodded in content, contributing to his confusion,

"Other reasons as well."

"And what are they?" He questioned.

Alice didn't respond right away. She took her time to think up her response, holding her hands behind her. Her eyes wandered to the wooden beams above, admiring the craftsmanship. Cedar wood constructed the barn that was built in limited time, it still smelled like the northern part of the area. She recalled it from the one time she stormed off into the forest,

"Did you build this barn, or did your father?"

"Pa did. I was just a kid when he bought the land; 'course he made me help."

"But you did it yourselves. Wasn't it rewarding?" He shrugged,

"Uh, I guess." The look in his eye was still puzzled, "Ain't like there was any other choice. Well, unless we wanted to freeze that winter." He shook his head, "Alice, what're you doin' here?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. It does." He walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder to keep her from escaping. His eyes locked onto hers, much to her embarrassment. Quickly her head began to race again, she couldn't fathom a real thought or response. So she was silent. Jack grew impatient, "Just say it."

There would be no point in lying. There would be no lie to share. She did not come out of love or a romantic longing. Truly, it was more of an emotional attachment. He had become her release, and she admired him for that. This life could be her escape from her cage, her one chance to be free. Yet, she found it so difficult to tell him that,

"I've never once appreciated my life. I hate it." She lost her thought in his eyes, she shook her shoulder away from his grasp, closing her eyes as her head hung so that she may think, " I thought, maybe... if I were to help you rebuild like before, help you work at your ranch... maybe I could feel like I've done something other than lay down like a porcelain doll." She looked back up at his blank face. When he didn't respond at first, she worried she had said something horribly wrong. Regret anguished her, her stomach began it's squirming fit once more,

"You came back... to work?" She nodded vigorously, "You want me to put you to work?" He laughed,

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

"No, tell me." He looked at her for a moment with a smirk on his face,

"It's just so ironic. Here a spoiled woman is trying to go find man's labor."

"Something wrong with that?" She took the handle of a hammer off the table, waving the head in his face, "How hard can it be." Jack stopped her, holding her wrist with one hand and taking the tool with another,

"If you want to work here, you're going to have to do what I say." He placed the hammer on the table, "Rule number one..." His smile faded at remembering something. He released her wrist, causing the sudden change of heart on Alice's face, "Alice... you're getting married." Her lack of response provoked him to continue, "Aren't you?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You didn't call it off, did you?"

"Technically, no. But as I said before I do not wish to talk about it."

"Alice, please." He pleaded, but looking into her serious eyes he knew she would not budge,

"Please respect my decision. All that matters is that it is done, and I am ready to start over." He tilted his head back, looking back at her with a less than approving look,

"I can only imagine what your parents thought."

"I never told them. I left right after we decided it was not going to work."

"So you ran away?"

"Yes." Jack lifted his hand to his face, clearly frustrated with the foolish girl,

"You're so smart, Alice, how could you be so stupid!" She pointed a finger at him, like a mother would to her child. Her voice was stern and commanding, aged beyond her years,

"I have a right to be happy, damn it, I won't have you telling me how to live my life."

Jack expressed a look of shock from her choice of words. He had never heard her curse before, at least not in such a stern manner. But for some odd reason, the words calmed him, they made him hope that maybe she was sincere. What if she were to stay? If his lonely longing could be fulfilled? For this he did not doubt her,

"Are you sure about this?"

"If I had any doubt in my mind I wouldn't be here right now." He turned away, shaking his head in disgust with himself. It was so selfish of him, he thought, "Don't you feel guilty, Jack." He still shook his head, speaking in a quiet sandy voice,

"I just ruined a perfectly happy life for you."

"That's not true." She touched his cheek, turning his eyes to her, "I have never been so happy." He took her hand, gently moving it away from his face,

"We'll start tomorrow morning." Alice nodded in agreement, watching as Jack exited the barn,

"Jack." He paused at the door, slowly turning to face her with a blank expression on his face. She smiled at him, a genuine curl of the lip, "Thank you." He stared back, tipping his hat in response.


	17. Work Days

That night Alice spent the night at the inn in Blackwater. Miraculously, the same room she had boarded in for months was still open. Although, Blackwater never had many visitors to begin with. It was a red room, decorated with velvet curtains and a brass headboard to her almost queen sized bed. Quite luxurious in such a small town; she paid the price for it. Peter had given her the day off, some time to "refuse" her energy from the past few stressful days.

Carefully she closed the room's door behind her, careful to lock it with the silver key given to her by the concierge. Too many horror stories had been shared with her by Peter of priceless pieces of jewelry gone missing in the rooms, although she found it hard to believe considering the social status of many of the towns people. She was wearing a simple cotton dress that she loved with her caramel waves put up in a messy bun. Already she had become accustomed to the simple folk appearance. She slipped the silver key into her brassier, starting down the wooden stairs.

In her other palm she held an off white envelope inscribed with the address of her home in New York. Or, her parent's home rather. The contents of which pleaded for forgiveness, but to allow her the freedom she had won. The last thing she wanted was for her father to send some Italian goons after her. His protective nature was sickening.

Alice dismounted her steed at the post office, casually stepping into the office. With a nod and a a polite thank you, the manager took the letter,

"My thanks." She smiled to the elder man, dressed in a brown vest with circular spectacles,

"Not a problem, Miss. We should have this letter delivered in a matter of days, maybe less."

"So fast?" She questioned, "Why, our means of communication is ineffable."

"That it is, Miss, the wonders of civilization."

It seemed especially windy that day, and it was not just the fact that her horse seemed to be trotting faster than normal down the dirt road. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what sort of work Jack had in store for her. She was not accustomed to the hard labor she asked for, and she had little idea of what to expect. Hopefully she could be more of a help than a hindrance on the days that she was not busy with Peter.

Jack was out working on the fence again, as expected. It seemed that he had made considerable progress, having already striped down half of the eroded posts. Now he was replacing them with the freshly cut rungs. Alice rode up to the hitching post next to the barn, nodding her head to him while still on horseback,

"Good morning Mr. Marston." She quickly dismounted the steed, tying her up with rope to the hitching post. Jack stood from his work, strolling on over until he was standing a few feet away from the lively girl,

"'Mornin Miss Thatcher, back to a strictly surname basis I see." She crossed her arms, giving him a sassy look,

"Jack." She smiled, moving her hips gracefully as she passed him to step by the fence. She motioned a hand to it, "Is this what we will be working on today?" He let his eyes wander past him, following her as she stood by the wooden posts. When she spoke, he lifted his eyes to her, nodding in response,

"It's one hell of a job for one man. It's pretty simple with just a little help."

"That's what I'm here for isn't it?" She held both of her hands out, smiling in response. He couldn't help but give a tired sigh at her enthusiasm, clearly she had never worked a day in her life,

"You better not be worried about ruining those pretty little hands."

"Nonsense. Now what will you have me do?" He rolled his eyes, leaning over to take a wooden pole from a nearby pile. He roughly handed it to her, then pointing over to a hole he had just made in the ground,

"Hold it in place while I make sure it's secure."

Alice took the cedar pole in her hands, lifting it up to observe each corner. Seeing the hole made in the ground, she shoved it in. It did not fall in very far however, and it took all her womanly strength to shove it deep enough to stay. The sight of her struggle was too much for Jack not to be amused, as he chuckled slightly at her struggle. She ignored him, and her own red face, looking up at the man,

"Now what?" He shooed her away, taking it in his hand to apply his weight. It seemed pretty sturdy, so he stepped away,

"Hold it steady."

Soon he began to nail the board into the pole, applying force to the hammer which caused Alice to shake with each blow. Within a matter of minutes Jack had nailed in the first two boards, finishing that rung. The process of building the fence went on for near an hour, making near an hours worth of conversation about the means of hard work. Much of which Alice had never quite experienced,

"So, Jack. Why on earth had you started building the fence anyways." He looked up from his work. He crouched down next to the post where he nailed the metal pegs in, peering up at the woman struggling to keep the pole steady,

"Like I said before, the place was getting pretty run down." She raised a single eyebrow at him,

"Did you not say it was a two man job?" He was silent for a moment, pondering a worthwhile response, or excuse,

"What business is it yours if I build a fence on my own land?"

"Alright, okay, sorry for asking." She blew a strand of loose hair from her eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the now nerved Jack. He seemed to be getting defensive about something, and she was pretty sure she had an idea of what it was about, "I just don't see how, if it's a two man job-" Half way through her reasoning Jack let out a groan of annoyance, clearly hoping she would stop talking,

"Okay, Alice, are you here to work or talk?"

"I'm sorry."

Silence plagued the two workers for the following minutes. They made progress down the line, coming to the final end. It was rewarding, almost seeing the finished product of sturdy fencing all lined up. It seemed sturdy enough to last, too,

"I felt like I owed it to, well my family." He broke the silence, "They had a dream and I felt guilty just letting it sit here and rot. Mighty big waste of land."Alice looked to him, remaining silence for fear of a scolding. Jack shot up a half smirk in a mocking fashion, "You know I won't bite you."

"I would rather not risk it." He outright laughed at the girl, provoking a questionable glare from her young face, "What's so funny?"

"You're offended easy." She opened her mouth ajar, staring at him with an amazed look on her face,

"As are you!" She exclaimed, "My word." She laughed.

This is how it often went. One moment they were on edge of screaming at each other, and the next they were laughing about their silly skirmishes. It was a part of their life that was not easily lost with time. But Alice's expression quickly settled, a soft smile now replacing her amused giggling disposition,

"Do you think you will ever buy any cattle, Jack?"

"That's the plan." He tiredly sighed, continuing to nail in a peg into a freshly cut board. It still smelled freshly of cedar pine needles, "Not this year though."

"Why not?"

"Winter's comin'. They aren't much use in that season."

"It's still a while off. Winters down here don't get below 50 degrees from what I've heard." He shrugged, standing up from his work. He had finally finished the last part of the fence, and a sigh of relief was breathed by all,

"It's not too bad of an idea, I guess." He paused, standing back to admire the work. He took off his hat, wiping his forehead with his forearm sleeve, "That should last us about ten years."

"Us?" A peculiar tone graced her voice when she asked the question, wondering if his word usage was merely a slip of the tongue or not. Jack hunched over, throwing his hands into his pockets,

"Uh, um. Yeah." He pulled the rim of his hat down to shadow his face, to which Alice merely rolled her eyes in amusement,

"Jack... Do you honestly see me working here as just a farm hand in ten years?"

"_Just _a farm hand?" He smiled at her, "Well, I tend not to make predictions, Miss Thatcher. I'm not exactly a fortune teller, am I?"

Jack usually hadn't a clue how to avoid such questions, but for now he seemed to dance around the interrogation just perfectly. Alice held no malicious intent in her question, for she herself even wondered at times what the future held. But it was always best to live in the present, and at the moment, it was all she could hope to do. She crossed her arms, rocking her hips in a direction she wished to walk. Talking, she started towards the hill that overlook the ranch,

"It's hard to tell where you'll be in years to come... how different you'll be." She turned to him behind her while walking, smiling with mouth wide open, "The world isn't like what it used to be. Everything is changing so fast... everyday, even in my young, I am beginning to feel behind the times." Enthralled, Jack followed behind her. Gracefully, the young woman tucked her dress under her knees as she sat on the moist green grass that coated the hill overlooking the farm. The man took a seat to her left, watching and listening intently to her views of her future,

"I always envisioned myself a mother of many children." She laughed, tucking some hair behind her ear, "Of whom they might belong, I was unsure." A quick eye flashed to him, then back. She hoped he hadn't seen, "But with so much talk of equality, they tend to discourage such a cult of domesticity from even existing. What is to become of my future as a woman now?" He thought, sitting in silence for only a moment. He stroked his chin, as he had seen so many esteemed townsmen do in his day. It was more of a habit, not a mimic,

"Had you asked me two years ago, I would argue that a woman belong in the home. Don't get me wrong, I've met my fair share of independent woman." For a moment he thought back to his mother. Abigail was by far the most hardened woman he had met to date, both due to her past and by nature, "But in the home, with children... there is a certain love only a mother can provide in raising them. If they left home to have man jobs the kids could get off into all kinds of mischief."

"Man jobs?" She cocked an eyebrow in amusement, "Oh how I would feel ever so horrible in disturbing the equilibrium of our status quo!"

"Miss Thatcher, I come from a society where our best men were born to whores and raised in orphanages half their lives. If anyone knows anything about how an absent parent can screw you up, it would be me." Her gaze lowered at the statement,

"Were you one of them?" He merely stared at her blankly, drawing her to the conclusion that he figured she knew or that she should stay in her place, "I'm sorry." She paused, drawing her gaze to the tree that shaded the side of the hill, "I'm still trying to figure these people out. How they become so hardened, why so many are quick to pull the trigger."

"The peacemaker?" He joked, "It's a culture. Not much to explain."

"A rough one. Would you want your future family to be a part of it?"

"You mean kids?" He laughed cynically, shaking his head as his eyes kept straight ahead, "Why the hell would the world need my legacy?"

"Let's see. You're literate, you're far more knowledgeable about trials in life than half the men on this earth at such a young age, and you're good natured. For such a colorful past I think you turned out well." The word colorful caught his attention. From what he told her, his past hadn't seem all too out of the ordinary, and it drew him to wonder exactly what she had meant by it. But bringing up the subject would mean confrontation of an issue he did not wish to get into, so he did his best to ignore it and move on,

"Thank you, although I don't think of myself as the positive figure you make me out to be." She shrugged, following his stare off into the distance,

"You've been kind enough to me." She smiled to him, observing the man's hidden red cheeks from the shadow of his hat,

"Yeah."


	18. Snow Days

"Why's it got to be so goddamn cold out!" The slender little woman couldn't help but rub her hands vigorously up and down her arms, trying to salvage some bit of warmth to battle the intense cold, "I thought you said it didn't snow this far south!"

"I didn't." Jack smiled friend like, walking up to the woman to place his warm palms on her upper arms, warming them instantly. He had been so happy lately, for unknown reasons. She wasn't about to question why, "I said it's rare. Now stop bein such a whimp." She smacked him hard on the arm, causing him to flinch in amusement,

"I'm not a whimp, it's just so freezing! Look, I can barely see the barn through this snow!" Her finger pointed to the distance. Through the hazy sheet of white, a shadow of the building could barely be made out.

I was late December, both Alice and Jack figured. She hadn't exactly kept tract of the days passed on her stay, and Jack never pestered her to. All she knew was that she had yet to receive a letter from her mother or father, and still no sign of them coming after her. It felt like victory, victory layered in a thick layer of freezing ice from the cool December days. Still, Jack wanted to finish the barn door that had been pestering him since the beginning of their project. They had, in truth, made noticeable progress since her arrival nearly two months prior. With the coming months, it had become more difficult, however, and soon they might not be able to get much done at all with the fickle weather,

"You can head on inside then!"

"Inside?" She questioned with a surprised tone in her voice. In all of her stay she had yet to enter his house, and it surprised her that he should trust her in there alone for a first time, "The house?"

"No, the silo." He joked, "Where do you think?" The two of them continued to scream through the noisy blizzard. It was so bizarre to the two of them that a warm city such as blackwater could be experiencing such a storm,

"The door can wait until tomorrow, come with me."

"But I'm almost finished, I..." She placed her balled fists on her hips, giving him a piercing look even he could see through the snow, "Goddamn, woman. No need to be so pushy."

"I ain't pushy!"

"Oh look at you, Lady." His eyes showed disbelief of her grammar, "You want to rephrase that sentence."

"Oh shut up." She waved her hand at him, turning to walk back to the house. Jack scooped her off her feet from her behind, lifting her into a bear hug much to her distress. She laughed, screaming at him through the muffled screen of white. Their vision was blurred the whole walk to the house, causing much stumbling.

It was odd, stepping onto the porch. She had sat on the wooden rocking chair once before to look out at the barn with Jack once a few weeks ago. There they sat for hours just talking, nothing more but enjoying each others company. The first thing to greet her was the bull skull mounted on the porch awning. She cocked an eyebrow at it, Jack saw when he looked over to her,

"Pa and Ma's idea of décor."

As expected, the rest of the house had a similar design. A intricately woven rug was laid across the foyer, leading the two of them into the log built living room. The first thing to catch her eye was an, assumed, stuffed eagle perched on the side table to the crimson colored fancy couch that faced the hearth of the room. Across the hall was a table for dining with a laced circle to sit in the center. It was small, and quante,

"It's beautiful." She stuttered through chattering teeth. She really hadn't realized how cold she was until she was warmed by the fire Jack has started,

"Let me take your coat, madam." Alice looked down. Her pea coat was coated in snowflakes, most likely the reason she was still a few degrees below zero in body heat,

"T-Thank you." She stuttered again, allowing him to slip the jacket off her. By instinct, she sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, holding her arms.

Jack left the room for a moment, returning with two mugs in hand. He held one out to the freezing maiden,

"Here, it'll help you get warm." Grateful, Alice took it. She was unsure of the liquid inside, but from the warmth of the mug she knew it would help. She took a sip, instantly grunting in disgust,

"What is this." Jack laughed,

"Warm Gin."

"Mm." She groaned, placing it down on the table in front of her, "I've never drank liquor, Jack."

"Take it," He picked it up for her, placing it back in her hands, "It'll make you warm, honest."

Alice inspected the man for a moment before taking the mug back. She trusted that he was serious and not just trying to get her drunk. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took another sip. The look on her face was priceless to him, causing him to silently chuckle to himself. Still, she continued to consume the rather foul liquid. All the while her eyes watched the flames dance. Occasionally a tiny flare would bounce from the wild flames, landing itself on the wooden floor boards. She feared it would spark a flame, but it never did. Only falling and gently settling onto the bumpy crevice, smoldering in it's own weight.

Jack rose from his spot on the couch. He took a metal prodding stick from a rack on the wall, walking over to sit by the hearth. With the sharp prod, he gingerly forced a log off on another. It must have been his way of keeping the fire going, or a way of expressing his boredom. Alice was too cold to care. It aggravated her that she could not stop shaking, it was a struggle to even stop chattering her teeth. It must have been loud enough, for it caused Jack to turn his head in concern,

"Do you need a blanket or something?"

"Yes please." She spoke gratefully, still rubbing her palms against her thighs.

Jack only left the room for a moment, returning with a few folded blankets in arm. She grabbed for them, standing to rush over. One was made of a surprisingly soft woven wool. With one swooping motion she wrapped it around her shoulders, bundling herself into a ball next to the stone fireplace. She pressed her knees to her chest, watching the flames dance from a new angle,

"I'm sorry if they smell as musty as I think, they haven't been used in god knows how long." She continued to stare into the fire with blank eyes, a light wrinkle appearing on her lip,

"The smell reminds me of my grandmothers, it's fine." He sat on the ground next to her,

"Glad to know my house's smell reminds you of an old-lady." She grinned, shoving his shoulder,

"No. It's a good thing... I forgot about it actually. I miss her." It had been years since she had last been to her house. The smell of old wallpaper and starch was familiar to her, a comforting nostalgia had overcome her when she inhaled the scent. Jack turned to her, observing the orange glow that kissed her cheeks in the light. He almost forgot what he was to say,

"What happened?"

"Oh she died." She shooed, "Some ten, twelve years ago. I don't remember exactly." She couldn't help but smile into the red flames, "She taught me to play the piano... I am serious when I say she was the only one to show me any real sort of attention in my childhood."

"Didn't you have all sorts of nannies looking after you?" He questioned, emphasizing the word nannies as if in a mocking way to the rich, to the one's who could afford to have other women raise their kids,

"No... well there was Eliza. She was more of a mother figure, however. But my actual mother, bless her, has never been the most affectionate woman. Bitter if I may say... and my father wouldn't take a break day to save his life. Yes, my life has been spoiled, but lonely to be frank."

"There's a reason I killed the dream of being a Politician... might pay enough, but there's little point if it consumes my whole life."

"Here here." She joked, clanking the mugs together as if to toast. What little amount she had to drink was already going to her head. Then again, she hadn't eaten much beforehand anyways, "So Jack, any depressing past you wanted to share?" For a moment Jack stared in a mix of disbelief and confusion. What the hell kind of question was... whatever. He'd just play it off. He shrugged, keeping a piercing stare ahead,

"Too long to name, sweetheart."

"No Daddy or Mommy problems?"

"What are you getting at?" She shrugged, not aware of anything she was truly saying,

"Not sure, Jack... I learned some stuff up... Er, Father did. Something about your father being a murder and a thief." He was silent as she giggled at her own speech mistakes,

"What about it?" She placed a hand on his lap, causing him to flinch. She paid it no mind,

"Did it ever upset you?"

"Of course it fucking did." He raised his voice in an unbelievable tone, throwing his hands as if the answer to her question was obvious. It frightened her, his mad state, but she did not withdraw her hand. It calmed him, as he closed his eyes and shook his head. For a moment they sat in silence, her eyes staring intently in a caring fashion, "I've cried too much about it, I can't cry anymore... it used to be all that would put me to sleep at night."

He didn't care that she knew, or even how she came to know. All that mattered was that now he felt no need to explain himself. Half the reason he neglected to tell her was from his annoyance of sympathy. The days of him complaining were long gone. He realized now what little use naivety to his father's sins served him, and thought it best to accept the reality as how life normally was and always would be.

But Alice couldn't help but sympathize. All her life she had felt so detached to her family, it was almost as if she could relate to his neglect. Not in the same degree, but in other ways,

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He grunted, still staring at the fire,

"I guess we both have been pretty lonely people our whole lives." Her hand, still placed on his thigh, began to slip towards warmth, wandering closer to him. Realizing what she was up to, Jack jumped away, rebuffing her as she leaned in,

"Alice, what are you doing?"

"Don't you ever wonder?" She leaned closer practically falling into his lap as he was forced to catch her. He couldn't help his beating heart from thumping like a drum as she laid helplessly in his arms. She lifted herself up to wrap her arms around her neck. He tried to pull away, but he was trapped,

"Wonder about what?" She giggled to herself, leaning closer to his ear,

"What I taste like." He frowned, pushing her away,

"With all due respect, Miss, with what you've been drinking, not much." Her smile faded as he arms fell limp. Her eyes grew weary in defeat,

"It's not the alcohol, Jack." Both faces grew blank, but Jack's in thought. How pathetic she looked by the shadow her hair cast on her face. She was beautiful to him, and the temptation ran rampant throughout his mind. Her pathetic disposition of defeat was agonizing when all he wanted all along was staring straight at him. He wrapped an arm around her,

"You don't have to act, you know." She lifted his gaze to his, her heart nearly melting. If it were any other man she wouldn't bear to let herself feel this way, yet for now, she didn't mind,

"Oh but I do." She lifted her hands to his face, "You'd never respect me if I did something in my right mind."

"I respect you more than any woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, Miss Thatcher. Which is why I'm obligated to plead for you to... withdraw." Taken back a moment, she stared through his iris with half open eyes, a weak smile upon her lips,

"I'll have to decline that offer, Mr. Marston. Can't we just say... what ever happens, happens?"

Their faces were just inches away now, and the temptation was softly tugging at his heart strings. It was an internal battler for Jack, to give into the guilty pleasure and live with knowing how he tainted Alice or to show restraint. Her sweet breath was felt upon his lips, and it killed him. By instinct he held her closer, and tighter. She smiled in response,

"This is so wrong." He complained, yet a grin found it's place upon his lips despite it all,

"You're right." She pressed her lips against his for a quick moment, sending her heart into a momentary craze before she pulled away, "That's what makes it so fun."

A kiss had never before made her heart beat with such vigor and speed. Her lips were soft against his, pressing gently to his warm lips. The feeling of his strong hands tracing small motions down her back was even more of a sensation in her mind. She pressed deeper into him, wanting to explore every inch she could. His eyes opened while hers were still locked shut, he pulled away,

"Alice, wait." He pushed her away, forcing her to loosen her grasp around his neck. A puzzled look found it's way upon her brow, but he spoke before her pursed lips could make a sound, " I can't... take it from you."

"Why not?" She questioned. The look she passed onto him was passionate and sincere, it comforted him. But it was also deceiving, he was forced to close his eyes to keep his mind off the temptation,

"It ain't right... I'm not right... we aren't married."

"Marriage." She laughed, "Such a silly thing, isn't it? I wouldn't expect something like that from you."

"I couldn't live with the guilt if you regretted it."

The disgusted lack of contact he gave to her was enough for her disposition, as well as her heart, to diminish. Half of her wondered if he wished to rebuff her for reasons of attraction, but it seemed impossible given the fact that he had kissed her back. It was quite the opposite in reality. To Jack, it was painful to love her. He knew she could have so much better. There was no way, being a son of a whore and a murderer, that he deserved anything but the scum he considered himself.

But Alice, despite being rebuffed, remained determined. She took his head in her hands, parting his lips once more with her own,

"Nothing I say can make you do it. But, well, if you're alone, and I'm alone, then it only makes sense that we seek comfort in ea-" She was cut off by the now familiar sensation that surged through her veins as he kissed her. He took her in his arms, standing, and starting for the other room.

Dry air filled the winter morning. Cool whisps of chilling spirits seemed to possess the halls of the strongly built log home. The snow's radiating cool nature seeped through the contracted wood of the window, filling the atmosphere with an unusually cold temperature. An unpleasant twitch caused the weak and exhausted young woman to wake in search of covers. When she pulled them to her chin, they escaped from her toes. The stubborn cover caused her to open her eyes, finally admitting defeat against Mr. Sandman.

As she rose from her sleep, she propped herself into a sitting position, her arms supporting her leaning position as she slowly blinked her eyes. A yawn escaped her now chapped lips, a sign of her pure tired state. Her blinking gradually allowed her to make out the vision of the room around her. The touch of a muggy warm heat wave caused her to turn her head to the stone hearth beside her. It reached all the way to the ceiling, her eyes soon found. Jack had lit a fire for her to wake up to.

She truly hadn't realized how cold she was until the white sheets fell from her chest, exposing her bare skin. Her head turned to search for her cotton dress, which laid on the antique vanity dresser. The mirror attached allowed for her to see how mangled her hair had become from her restless sleep... or the night before. To say the least, it embarrassed her, and she hoped to the good lord that he hadn't paid much attention to her appearance that morning.

Looking down allowed a throbbing sensation to enter her temples. She winced at the pain, surely she hadn't drunken that much the night before. The only other source for the pain would be what she had assumed had happened from her lack of clothing being where she was. Sadly, she hadn't recalled a moment. Thinking about it, it brought tears to her. All that remained familiar was his touch, his warm breath on her neck. But the pain and pleasure was a blur, she couldn't understand why.

It stayed in her mind, as it would for the rest of her life. Now, the wound was fresh. It was all she could fathom. But she wouldn't show Jack. She was determined not to let him see her pain although it hurt so. She scooted herself across the bed, finally rising to put on her dress and run her fingers through her hair. When she was satisfied with her appearance, or at least as satisfied as she could have been, she headed out into the hall with a blanket draped across her shoulders.

Jack was in the living room, sitting on the corner of the couch that faced the fireplace. As expected, he held a book in his hand that he appeared to be completely enamored with. It amused her, for this was the first time she actually saw him read. He talked about it enough, it didn't surprise her. Her arms were crossed as she inspected him, for he still hadn't lifted his head from his reading. She hated to interrupt,

"What are you reading?" Jack jumped. Not greatly, but enough to make his head pop up quicker than a bolt of lightning. Alice grinned, giggling slightly at his stutter. He smiled back, eying her kindly. The stare he used seemed different than before, maybe softer was the word? But more... affectionate than soft, it was loving to be precise,

"N-Nothing, really." She cocked a peculiar eyebrow at him, strolling on behind him to spectate the novel from the words she read,

"A Tale of Two Cities?" She read from the cover. Jack closed the book, placing it on the side table with one hand,

"Yes, uh." He stuttered, he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately, "It's basically about the French Revolution. You know, how the radical Jacobins would practically line up nobles at the guillotine."

"I think I've read something like that, The Scarlet Pimpernel?" He gave a confused stare,

"Never heard of it ." His eyes wandered to the cover of the brown leather book, his fingers drumming anxiously against the arm of the couch. His desire to finish his chapter was agonizing him, "I don't think you've ever talked about books to me."

"It was slightly more romance orientated. But none the less, horrifying in tale."

She smiled down at him, sneaking her hand down to playfully pinch his arm. He swatted her hand away jokingly, shaking his head at her childish antics. After all, she was still a child. Only seventeen... it bothered Jack. Thinking about the night before and what he did to her. And her being so young. A sudden feeling of guilt swept away any sign of happiness on his face.

Alice didn't see this, only proceeding to sit next to him on the couch,

"They're only books... but I guess they offer some outlet of release." She reached her arm over his lap, taking the book from the side table and plopping it open on her lap, "When I was a child, it was all I was aloud to do in my spare time. Well, besides the occasional date with Janet."

"Never in a million years would I believe that you enjoyed reading." She looked up mockingly,

"Now why would you say that?"

He shrugged in response. Still, her stare still embodied that of a 'do I look like an idiot?' imposition. When she drew back, she laid her head back on the couch, her face pointing to the ceiling. It revealed her pale neck clearly, and a silver chain that wrapped around her neck. Jack cocked an eyebrow. He had seen the necklace before, but never to clearly. It seems that she seldom took it off, even the night before. He prodded it with his index finger,

"What's that around your neck?" Alice jumped, taking the pendant in her fingers. She felt the impression on the medal oval,

"Oh this?" She rolled her eyes, smirking slightly, "It's a clover, see?" She held it out to him, "It was my grandfather's pendant. He was an avid Irish gambler... it's not something I take pride in, but he thought it would bring him luck. Lord knows where he got the money for the silver." He peered for a moment,

"What's that in it?" She tilted her head, awkwardly looking down at it before it dawned on her what he was referring to,

"When I was very young he had a small Topaz put into its center. It's my birthstone, you know."

It was not a very intricate design. On the silver pendent was a simple rounded clover, straight up without a single curve in it's stem. A small border framed the oval, and inside the clover laid a small gem of a yellowish gold color. After inspecting it's shine, he looked up to her,

"It's beautiful, like you."

"Oh, don't flatter me." She rebuffed, pulling away. This confused Jack, as he leaned over to get a better look at her. She turned her face away, her eyes closed,

"What's wrong?" Her eyes never made contact with his to find that he appeared worried so quickly after her distant state occurred. Without looking, she continued,

"Will I go to hell?"

"Why in Sam's hell would you think that?" She looked back to him, weakness in her eyes but no sign of tears. She had become too strong to cry,

"I am beginning to doubt my confidence that marriage is such a silly institution built to put woman in the chains of her husband's will. God says..."

"God says homosexuals are abominations and slaves are acceptable. He also put us in a world of unfair and unjust hate. Put people here who do nothing but kill."

"But that is the will of man. I have sinned, Jack." He chuckled, shaking his head that hung loosely from his neck. If only she knew what a real sinner he was,

"You will do worse things in your life that your god will forgive you of. Trust me, alright?" She stared wide eyed, stunned at his comment,

"I hadn't known you were an atheist." He didn't look up,

"When you've seen the things I've witnessed, it's hard not to."

The thought of his memories had been blocked off for a while now. It had become his barrier, his shell to keep from the pain he felt in his life. It was unfair, but the thousand knives feeling in his heart now numbed. In his mind, it was a fine trade off. Emotions and memories for numbness, was his way of putting it. Yet it still frustrated him when he could not feel as intently as he would wish, especially of Alice. It was part of what kept him second guessing. She deserved affection which he lacked the experience of. His fists balled as he broke the short silence,

"There are a lot of things you don't know about."

"And that I plan on figuring out. For the rest of my life."

She took his hand in hers to look him in the eye. Her beam mesmerized him, caused him to smile. For the look of confidence, in their future, was enough of a reason for rejoicing to him. Neither of them had to be alone any longer.


	19. Simple Days

_May 1917_

_It was six years ago today the government bastards came for me and Ma. For some reason the date stuck cause from then on I knew things were changing. That any hope for stability was gone. I knew it then, and I knew why Pa was gone, but I refused to let Ma know. It would have broken her heart._

_For the longest time I resented him. How he could make Ma cry so hard at night. Being held by the government agents was hell, and the image of them getting funny on her is still something that makes me cringe. I respected Pa, but I hated him. Still, I tried to make a father out of him. It wasn't until he died I realized how much he loved us. Until his sacrifice I had no idea what love was._

_When Ma died, I was broken and alone. In my own rage I sought out redemption for my father and killed that bastard Ross, the government criminal. Everything after that was a dark time. Consumed by my own depression I drank, smoked, and fucked. I did everything a young man shouldn't do, but what was expected of me being who I was._

_Sometime during the summer two years later I came across a rather pathetic and whiny woman, or girl I should more than likely say. Her story wasn't all that desolate to me, but then again, few are. Yet for some reason she kept to me like a lost dog, and I let her. For a while I wondered if it was an accident or me being selfish for company. Sometime after I had grown attached she left for New York to be married. I was sure I'd never see her again. But the pain was something I was used to._

_I went numb until she returned some odd months later, blabbing about how she wanted to work for a living and not be waited on. She wasn't much of a farm hand, but that time I spent with her I watched her grow. Her personality got stronger, more worn and disciplined. She came to look at me with a disposition of affection. I ain't never been accustomed to that look. Her beams were warm, and I guess I returned it as best I could._

_It's been months since then. She moved in sometime in between, convinced Peter that she could work full time with me. To say the least it's comforting to have someone else in the house again. Seeing a woman standing by the stove, it brings back nostalgia._

"Are you going to have your nose in that paper bound book all day?"

The shade of the Ash tree's green leaves that spring morning cast intricate shadows upon Jack's inked page, along with the figure of a hand waving around the parchment, hindering his ability to see. When he looked up, he saw the slender woman with her hand outward drawn, doing everything in her power to get his attention. Jack couldn't help but smirk at her antics, and also at the beauty the green leave's shadow painted across her spotless red cheeks. Her burnt skin seemed to give her a constant glowing blush that was irresistible to him.

Alice bent her elbow to rest her hand on his hip. She beamed down at him as he looked her same way. His look was not of annoyance, but one questioning why she worked so hard for his attention. As if you say 'Yes?' He blew on the ink to dry, before closing the journal,

"God forbid I take a few seconds for myself, m'lady."

"More like an hour, must you deny me your sweet time?" He shook his head at her, standing from his sitting position at the base of the tree,

"Is there something you needed?"

"Not exactly." She held her hands behind her back, turning back to the barn, "I watered the horses and I am done with the chores, for now. I figured we could go out, it is beautiful day that shouldn't be wasted." The young but mentally aged man cocked an eyebrow at her detailed rendition,

"What did you have in mind?" She motioned for him to follow her to the open barn doors.

* * *

><p>Laid out on the tool table was a yellowed and curled paper held down by two hammers. On it was a downsized landscape of the area, a map of the borderline Texas Mexico area. Names of the area and different provinces and small cities littered the diagram with scribbled calligraphy. Alice grazed the surface with her index finger, laying her print on where they were,<p>

"I have never been beyond West Elizabeth. These places like Cholla Springs and Hennigan's Stead, I wonder whats out there." It baffled Jack to hear these words come from her mouth. Why anyone would want to visit any western town, all but bandits and pioneer men, was beyond his mental capacity. He shifted his weight to a different leg, leaning back to look at her with an expression that matched his thoughts,

"You want to see possibly the most dangerous part of the state? For what, boredom?" She lifted a single eyebrow at him, leaning over the map with both arms propped against the table,

"I've spent my life wandering around the Harlem area without my parent's consent. I doubt anything is out there but sand and space anyways."

"Then what's with the fascination?" She shrugged, continuing to stare at him,

"Are you afraid?" A crease in his brow was the sight he hid from his affection's eyes. He yearned so badly to 'say not for myself', but he couldn't keep treating her like a doll. She was worth more than that, and although he feared for her safety, he couldn't play the father figure,

"Of course not."

Jack rubbed the area above his eyebrow in thought. There was no denying the woman was getting fed up with the boring task of restoring old broken down buildings. Needless to say it was one of the least rewarding jobs. Sure, you have better outhouses to hope you won't fall in, but there was no thrill in it. There was no doubt in the world she was getting bored,

"You're a real handful." He reluctantly caved in to her demand, departing from the barn.

* * *

><p>Hennigan's Stead proved to be a different setting than West Elizabeth. It astounded the naïve girl how different the land across the river between Flat Iron Lake and the San Luis River was. But the desert, no matter how deprived of life, was still a beauty of it's own right.<p>

Jack did not stop under a lush Oak tree or by a still creek. Neither did he wish for her to experience the romantic nature life in the settled areas he memorized so well. Instead, he made a point. In wanting to convince her that she should stay under the safety umbrella of West Elizabeth, he brought her to a rocky area that overlooked a cactus ridden landscape. Unimpressive, to say the least.

Puzzled was the look on Alice's face as the Stallion came to a stop. She remained attacked to the back of the slick animal while Jack dismounted. Quietly, he perched himself on the tiny mountain, reaching into his pocket to pull out a cigarette. Smoking was the most irking of all Jack's habits,

"This is it." He parted his lips to release the addicting smoke. Alice watched him from behind, dismounting the horse to follow him. It was almost a joke in her mind, for if he were being completely honest he could have found a more interesting landscape,

"Really?" It was more of a statement than a question, "You know, I would expect a better view from a romantic like yourself."

"I'm no romantic."

"It is all you ever read." She passed the crouching man, walking off to gaze into the desert, "Anything else must be a complete waste of time."

"That ain't true. It's one of the only things in life worth my time."

"Oh please. Reading is for politicians and lawyers. None of which are an honorable profession." He snorted,

"What if I told you I aspired to be a law-man?" Alice whipped around in her spot,

"I would call you crazy!" Jack laughed at her eager response, throwing the bud of his smoke to the ground. She rolled her eyes at the cynical attitude that he had gained. Putting up with him had become a bit of a bother. But his vices, in her mind, were overshadowed by her dependency. Everything she had would belong to him in a heartbeat should he ask for it, "Try not to look so thrilled." His expression was less than one of pleasure in the moment,

"Watch out. I just might blind you with my smile." She laughed. The sarcasm laced in his voice was almost too much to bear.

Alice turned back to the scene. As if it popped up while she had looked away, a city in the distance caught her icy blue eyes,

"Is that a town over in that direction?" She pointed,

"No. It's a mirage." She turned back around to glare at him,

"Are you going to take me there or not?"

"No." His response had no affect on her decision to investigate the western town. With his permission or not, she would amble her time away towards Armadillo. Jack rolled his eyes as she strolled away, "Armadillo ain't much to look at, Angel." The lack of response was enough to convince Jack to follow, reluctant as he was.

To say the least, the town proved to be just as Jack had told her. A bore of a soon to be ghost town. Or, if it had another fate, it might just be the roots of a soon to be large city as of the later 20th century. Most likely the former. While the lack of substantial architecture and inviting nature, the ladies of the night and tobacco chewing rustic men provided a culture in the town unique to the West. And culture could never bore a wide eyed naïve teen, as Alice was.

There was a fear that lightly brewed in the back of her mind and in the pit of her stomach. Every man, no matter how trustworthy their appearance was, holstered a shining pistol of their own. The fact that each man had the power of life and death so evident as to wear it on their belt was nerving. She cherished every bit of safety that Jack provided to her. Keeping to one's self was usually enough to stay out of trouble. Usually.

Because of this, she strolled alongside him much closer than normal. The only possible attraction worthy enough of her eyes, that she would be able to enter while keeping her dignity intact, was a general store. Which was sad enough in itself,

"It would be nice to see what little competition Peter has out here." The building was built of wooden panels, crumbling from it's foundation, as were all of it's company. Nothing else was worth mentioning, other than it's crudely painted sign on display to show it's purpose,

"You don't want to go in there."

"Why not?" He lifted his eyes from the dirt road to look at her with a blank stare,

"On second thought, this might be a good lesson." Alice cocked an eyebrow at him. Surely taking a small errand into a store in a quiet town, if it could be called that, would prove no obscurity. She was dragged along the beaten path by her left hand.

The inside of the store proved to be just as unimpressive as it's shell. Drearily boring were the words that came to mind when describing the atmosphere to herself. Behind the counter was a gray haired man adorned in a soiled apron. She remained quiet, silently observing the assorted wagon wheels and ropes that covered the walls. Jack spoke up to the man, not wanting to make him wait too long,

"Hello, Herbert." He said, "How's business going?"

Jack never liked Mr. Moon, nor did he appreciate his attitude towards Catholics, Women, Blacks, or anyone other than himself really. The capacity for this man to blame was endless. The Jews were the corporate evil of this world, all women were conniving whores. But having been raised to be more tolerant and polite than his father had the decency of, he bored with his ignorance. He decided to be especially friendly to make a point of this man's nature to Alice,

"Can't complain, friend. Things have been going pre-tty swell for Herbert Moon."

"Mind if we take a look at your price list?" The man placed an well-used card in front of the two. Scanning the items, Alice compared menial item prices. Surprisingly, his prices were much cheaper. A fact she wasn't sure whether to be fearful of or not,

"Where do you get your products?"

"Ahh most of it comes from somewhere farther out west. Unlike most out here, I don't buy my things from Mexican banditos."

"Why would Mexicans bandits be in the business of selling goods?"

"Hell if I know. They're more like smuggling burritos than anything." The constant drumming of fingernails on the wooden counter tapped at Jack's eardrum. Alice was getting impatient, and ready to change the subject,

"These prices are quite frugal. I would bet this is the best deal in New Austin." The man scratched at his skull from under his messy gray hair. He breathed loudly, and often. As if being in anyone's presence was enough to make him nervous,

"I ain't no money grabbing Jew, madam. My prices are modest." Alice frowned at the man, balling her fist behind the counter, hidden, "Filthy race they are... I sincerely hope none of you have had the burden of meeting one, yes sir."

"My grandmother was Jewish, Sir." Jack extended his hand to keep her from speaking, but it was too late. Herbert Moon was already well angered. If only she knew that arguing with this man would be a lost cause,

"In that case, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I won't have any Jewish scum littering up my store." He snuffed, "Especially a woman."

"Excuse me?" She protested calmly, to which the man grabbed her arm. Her eyes widened in instant fear, desperately pulling away to save herself,

"Get... out of my... shop!" He shouted as she struggled to stay put. For a flashing moment Alice's heart stopped, for at that moment she saw Jack perform the first harmful action to another in person.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack grab across the counter for the same hand that held Alice's wrist so firmly. Within the moment, he landed a shockingly powerful punch to the old man's face. In a dazed state, the man stumbled back, touching lightly at his bloody nose. His eyes rolled back into his head as he fell unconscious to the floor behind the counter.

All the while Alice stood in horror as she watched the man fall back. Wringing her injured wrist, she held it close to her chest,

"Is he... dead?"

"No, just unconscious." It was a gruesome sight to see the ignorant man bleeding in the back corner. She couldn't take her eyes off it. Jack placed a hand on her back, taking her out of her entranced state, "We'd better leave."

* * *

><p>"How can people be so, so... ignorant!" She threw her hands about in wild motions, "An uneducated man who, if I were to guess, had never even met a Jew!" Her expressions were beginning to throw her off balance as she carefully walked along the steel railroad line. Jack stood beside her for safety, but if she were to fall, it would have been of her own fault, "It blows my mind... and I'm from New York!"<p>

"You're plain sheltered." Jack laughed,

"Does that mean I cannot hate it, still?" The teenage girl balanced in silence, taking care to ensure each step would not cause her downfall, "My grandmother was the kindest woman I knew."

"I don't doubt it." All the while her eyes locked onto her black pointed toe heels, her attention rather directed to their clack against the hard metal. That sound, and the sandy air that surrounded that part of the state, "It's how they're raised. Hate is conditioned, we ain't born with it."

It was an obvious fact to anyone who gave it any thought. A silence laced with concentration played in her head as her instinctive balance took hold of her actions. The task of staying steady was beyond easy for the dancer. When one could shift their entire weight onto two toes without their corporeal self descending to the ground, preventing oneself from stumbling off a thick railing was child's play.

Her attention trailed to the the space at her right, eyes fixated on the man's black hat that bopped with every step. She had to quint past the wind, something that took concentration astray from what was coming from behind. A train's whistle pierced the ears of the shocked couple like the shriek of a harpy. Alice stumbled off the track, and Jack turned at the speed of light. The locomotive was still a sizable distance away, far enough to give him enough time to rush Alice off the track. From the side of the railroad they stood as the train went speeding by, lifting her hair from her neck and Jack's hat from his head. He had to hold it on to withstand the air.

Jack could hear her breath hard to match the beat of her heart. The adrenaline of being inches from imminent death rushed through her veins. In moments, the rush faded, and she sighed,

"You are quite informed for a country boy." He looked down to her with his piercing dark eyes, only shaking his head to the gap between responses,

"I sure wish I wasn't." Clearly he knew much more than Alice could imagine. He'd seen and had the worst happen in his own life, catastrophes that would only make Jack a harder man. A stronger one, too. It was responses like these that made her long for him to tell the truth. No simple son of a farmer had his dark eyes, nor the torture in his stare.

He did not flinch when her palm touched his cheek. Still stoic, he tore her down from the inside out with his eyes. She was felt vulnerable, like he could see straight through her. And she loved it,

"Smile, Jack. Would it kill you?" The command was simple, but unexpected. Still, doable. Willingly doable.

He smiled.


	20. Induction

Summer was about to begin that year, that time. It was then that the muggy air and sounds of specific wild life brought certain memories to mind. When Jack remembered the season he would find ways to be alone. Preferably inside, reading a book. But Alice wouldn't let him sit inside. The damn woman was coming to control his life, his well being, for the better. Although he had a hard time admitting it at times.

But it felt nice being outside. It wasn't quite unbearable yet, that dreadful kind of weather came closer to July. In June, the wind blew just enough to cool the sweat off someone's brow, given they weren't slaving in the sun for a hard day's work.

Jack gripped the wooden railing attached to the side of the porch. He stood under the awning, his eyes glued in a daze to no particular target. Just over the ranch was the general direction. All the while he couldn't get his mind off what had happened years ago. It already felt like two lifetimes. Looking where he was now, he knew so much more, and because of that was wiser than his years. He wasn't such a sheltered child trying to figure out his parents. To say the least, he didn't miss it at all. But the thought lingered every year.

He took off his hat, his father's black hat, and placed it specifically to cover up the knife marks on the rail. He had put them there himself. For some odd reason that he couldn't place Abigail had scolded Jack for a meaningless bit of sass. To spite his mother, he took his father's hunting knife to the rail and vandalized the thing. He got a beating, but the mark lasted.

It crossed his mind a couple times on how to get back into the house. Alice locked him out, making him practically whipped. He gave half a mind to blowing the lock off with his pistol just to make a statement. So when she got home, he'd be sitting on the sofa with a huge mocking grin on his face. What a sight that would be, but he cared about her too much to treat her in such a way. At least in that point of their relationship.

Brushing the dark neglected hair out of his face, he saw Alice return on horseback. He tried not to acknowledge her, he was too far gone in thought for any distraction. She saw him standing on the porch as well, but noticed his lack of response. Clutching the paper from the post office to her chest, she gracefully dismounted with a single hand. Even meters from the house he refused to look at her. To that she turned her head away, tucking her hair behind her ear. It had gotten slightly lighter since the winter. Due to the sun, no doubt.

He had been this way for a week or two now. Non-responsive, but not cold. Her chest ached to see him act tortured for no good reason. Without making a sound, her feet floated across the porch until she stood directly behind him. She gently touched his waist, wrapping her arms around him and resting her chin on his shoulder... which she had to stand on her toes to do,

"Are you alright?" It was the first time she had asked in a week. Nagging him would accomplish little, she found, so she spaced her concerns between their silence,

"Yeah." Her expression fell, as did her posture. She fell enough to press her cheek against his back. Her will was nearing a point where she needed to question his detachment. A moment of silence ensued until she was the one to break it again,

"Have you been standing here this whole time?"

"Yeah." He paused for a bit, "Locked me out, didn't you?" She nervously wringed at the paper in her hands. He could hear the crumpling, but wouldn't look at it,

"You have hardly left the house in days... you could have read a book."

"I've already read them all." He tried to break away from her grasp, but only noticed the paper she held in her hand, "What's that you got in your hand anyways?" Alice pulled away, retracting the letter to her chest as she looked up to Jack with an intimidated look on her face. He rolled his eyes, standing back and throwing his hand to the railing,

"You had some mail in the post office. I thought I would bring it to you."

"Well?" He offered his hand out to take it, speaking in a defeated tone, like he had just gotten out of a battle. She still refused to hand it to him,

"I want to know something first, Jack." He lifted his eyes from the edge of the porch to her expression of worry,

"What?"

"Tell me why you will hardly look at me." The man shook his head, turning again to lean over the railing,

"It ain't you, it's... nothing ." She, too, grabbed the railing. But her grip was tight, unlike his weak grasp of defeat. It wasn't three seconds before she softened up and found herself placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to encourage him, "It's... hard to talk about it. So I don't." He sighed, "But I ain't the type of man to keep you in the dark, not when we're like this."

It was a caring gesture, how she smoothly slid her hand to caress his. The response on the receiving end was not preferred. He, just as subtle as her touch, slid his hand from under hers. He didn't want to be touched. But she did not retract. Submitting to his depression would lead to no chance of recovery,

"Two lifetimes ago, this time, I was taken away with my Ma by the government. I never knew why at the time, but it wasn't the first time it had happened. All they told us was that Pa had some debt to be repaid."

My Pa wasn't a rancher. And my Ma... my mother, well she... They both were killers. I always knew they weren't much of an honest folk, but they tried to hide it all from me, even when we'd ride along side their gang... I even called them uncles." He scoffed sarcastically, pausing for a reaction that he never got. She was mostly silent, staring, absorbing,

"They never told me anything, and when they took us away, things never got to be normal when we got back. If you could call it normal..." He bit his lower lip. His palm felt wet against the railing due to his sweating. It wasn't hot, "I saw my Pa die in a pool of his own blood. They lied to him; They wouldn't let him go."

He was now turned around in his spot. His body weight leaned against the railing with his back faced away from the house. Alice, turned opposite, faced him expressionless. It took his all, but he found the strength to look at her and apologize for the rambling. Alice saw no issue, only going on to explain her observations,

"When I went back to New York, Peter had told my father your name. It was enough to find huge files... I knew your parents were criminals, no doubt." The expression of shock on his face took her attention away from her sentence. Whether or not it was pure shock or joy could be deciphered,

"And you came back anyways?" She nodded. She wouldn't pretend to understand his hurt, or the amount of depression the memory put on his life. But she assured herself that she'd rather help him through the stress than desert a lonely man she had grown fond of,

"It hasn't been read yet. Go on, take it." She offered the note, to which he opened the letter and began to read.

The impending silence brought about an anxious craving of the contents in her. If it contained good news, he would have read it out loud, yet, he stared stern at the paper. His brow furrowed, and she knew it couldn't be good. That fact was only more supported by the words not spoken on his lips. He mouthed the phrase 'my god',

"What does it say?" His lips straightened, he refused to speak, handing it to her.

And the paper read,

**ORDER TO REPORT FOR INDUCTION  
><strong>

All she could say was 'That damned war...'


	21. No Formal Agreement

With dirt dusted fingers, he held the abomination of a letter in his right hand. The non-existent curved edge of his lip was a tempting expression at the moment. Irony was splattered throughout the formal words of self assumed authority. That the very institution who single handedly used means condoned by their own laws to eradicate the legacy of his family now called upon him for service was laughable. He did not feel honored.

A flush of disbelief overcame Alice's disposition despite her utmost efforts to contain negative emotion. After shoving the note back into his possession, she turned away to walk across the porch. Steadily pacing back, her fingers nervously twitched over the fabric of her skirt. Every thought that crossed her mind was made known by a raised finger followed by forced silence. It would not be possible,  
>"Well don't that beat all." Jack scoffed, re-reading what he would continue to dissect for the next few minutes,<br>"Oh Jack." She pouted, throwing fists to her side. It peeved him that the tone she chose was more of an accusation. Internally rolling his eyes for the near millionth time, he shoved his hands into the suede pockets of his coat, stepping away slowly. The letter, now crumpled, was pushed into the depths of the fabric, "Please look at me!"

Her raised tone numbed his earlobe. She was starting to break, to lose her patience with his melancholy demeanor. After spending so much time raising her spirits, she was trying to reciprocate the favor that never really felt like one. He cocked his body to the side, turning his head to the left to face her. It was the least he could do,  
>"What are you going to do now?" Her voice resembled a whining dog yearning for a bone to be passed it's way. Jack's chin dipped into the bowl of his red bandana, his dark eyes still piercing the tension layered thinly across the porch,<br>"Water the horse, why do you ca-"  
>"No, about that thing!" Her thin lips twisted into an uneasy frown of distress. Pouring her heart out to the man hadn't become an easy task. His growing discontent for menial things and dreading of the very past that shaped him was beginning to take a toll on her well-being.<p>

In his own mind, he knew his fault. The reality was that without Alice, he would be alone, a literal 'lone ranger'. Here he was, after she admitted the truth about her return, being the unappreciative brute. He softened his voice to a less hostile tone, putting aside the grudges that had begun to strain the moment,  
>"I'm going to answer it. Cause I know full well what these men are capable of when things don't go their way. And even if things do go their way, they find some convoluted way to screw up everybody's lives."<p>

Alice felt guilt upon recalling his experience. This topic was one Jack was well educated on, having had first hand experience with an unstable lifestyle thanks to a government institution and the doings of his parents. The irony was enough to send her mind spinning for a way out.

"There is a way out of it, though." She breathed. Jack's fists flexed in the cotton pockets of his coat. Tensing, then releasing in a rhythmic pattern.

She approached him, coaxing him to a calmer state by whispering his name. How she loved to repeat the same single syllable that was his title. He hadn't seen any purpose in being confused her her fickle tendencies, she was young, and her ability to get him flustered back to adoring ceased to surprise him. Yet, with the way she pressed the palms of her hands to his upper jaw-line, he felt somewhat curious as to what she was getting at,  
>"Men are pushed to the back of the list if they are married, are they not?" As if he knew it was coming, his face remained placid. He grabbed her by both wrists, sternly forcing her to lay them at her sides,<br>"No." He scolded, eyes glued to the porch.  
>"Why not?" His silence was enough of a response to push a button or two, "Why must you always patronize me, act as if I know nothing."<br>"You're too... stubborn." He forced from his lips with a raspy voice, sounding defeated.  
>"What? You won't marry me because I'm too stubborn?" She ducked under him, looking up and stealing his eye-lock with the porch,<br>"No." When she opened her mouth again to speak, his words filled the air before her own, "Because I want to marry you knowing it was done for us, not for them."  
>"But it will be for us." She quickly added, surprisingly with a painless disposition. She displayed a soft disgruntlement that he could only assert a repetition at. His lips pursed as he released her wrists,<br>"If I return."

Jack could match her stubbornness to the tee, if prompted to. But unlike Alice, he used it rarely enough that when he became relentless, she would be required to give. She had "won" enough battles, and had come to the conclusion that fighting him on this fact would only end in a stalemate. This acceptance left her in a state of self pity when the reality of her submission set in. As if the visage of the Marston boy in the goofy military issued uniform, which couldn't be more unfitting, were the epitome of her dissatisfaction,  
>"When you return, it will be."<p> 


End file.
